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True Detective Mysteries 



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True detective mysteries 



Vol. XII 



A MACFADDEN PUBLICATION 
November, 1929 



No. 2 




CONTENTS 

The LAW and DEMOCRACY Charles H. Tuttle, United States Attorney, Southern District of New York 17 

The STRANGE CASE of FRANCES ST. JOHN SM ITH Lowell Ames Norris 18 

The case that held all New England in a grip of suspense.! 

HOW I SOLVED the INFAMOUS GREENWALDT MYSTERY A. M. Thompson 25 

Here is the ace of all deleilive Ifair-raisersl 

STALKING the "TIGER GIRL" of LOS ANGELES . .Dolores Delgado 28 

Detectives' thrilling chase to get the Tiger Girl's gang! 

The UNMASKING of "MYSTERIOUS MRS. X" Isabel Stephen 32 

It took one of the shrewdest detective minds in A merica to crack this one! 

WHAT HAPPENED to LEIGHTON MOUNT? Merlin Moore Taylor 35 

Baffling case of the Northwestern University freshman who "disappeared" 

The REAL TRUTH About CHAPMAN— AMERICA'S "SUPER-BANDIT" David Lindsay 40 

Revelations of this notorious police character never before published, giving the. real "inside" 

The "RED ROSE"- MURDER D. L. Michel 45 

A detective story with a heart! 

WHAT IT MEANS To Be POLICE COMMISSIONER of NEW YORK Joan Brand 52 

II mo the greatest city police force in America is handled to combat crime 

The CLUE of the GRAY HAT Homer G. Wells 55 

The RIDDLE of the SECRET CLOSET Burton Bassett 56 

DOPE— SCOURGE of the UNDERWORLD Frank Donohue 62 

The "AGENT" from HONG KONG Uthai Vincent Wilcox 10 

The DEATH SECRET of LOVERS' DELL Zeta Rothschild 12 

THIS MONTH'S CONTRIBUTORS— Who the Writers Are and What They Are Doing 6 

Cover Design Painted by R. A. Cameron 



1 



Km: The MYSTERY of BARINGER MANOR 



WHO KILLED "SUNSHINE MABEL"? 

Pretty 17-year-old Mabel Mayer, of Oakland, Calif., 
horribly murdered by the "wolf slayer" — with only the 
most meager clues left behind as the killer fled the 
scene of his ghastly crime! Don't miss this sensational 
murder of an innocent young girl that goaded a city to 
revenge! 

TRAPPING the "TERROR BANDITS" of SAN 
FRANCISCO 

This hair-raising man-hunt for the wanton killers of 
innocent citizens in stick-ups that poured blood like a 
river on the streets of San Francisco beggars descrip- 
tion! Who were these bloodthirsty, inhuman monsters of 
murder? 

The MURDER in APARTMENT 65 

Can a clever, attractive woman, coldly plan murder — 
execute it — then with studied deception beat shrewd 
detectives, prosecutor, judge and jury out of justice? 
Here is an unmatchable study in cunning murder!— 
the great case of pretty Marlyse Maye of New York, 
who sneered at the law! 



A SINISTER MYSTERY! 

— one of Louisville's most beautiful women — Mrs. Ella 
McDowell Rogers — mysteriously vanished . . . agoniz- 
ing screams that night in the basement of Baringer 
Manor! What seemed like blood . . . what appeared 
to be remains of burned human bones in the furnace! 
. . . the detectives completely baffled! Don't fail to read 
this masterpiece of mystery! 

MY BATTLE With COFFEY— BUTCHER of 
WOMEN! 

One of the most gripping and greatest stories of fact 
ever to appear in this magazine, written by the master 
fact writer, A. M. Thompson, (author of the Greenwaldt 
Mystery) and told by Sheriff Wright, the man who 
solved this great detective case, known throughout all 
the Middle West. A story you will long remember! 
The ASTONISHING FATE of DR. DAPPER 

A mysterious night ride from a Pittsburgh suburb . . . 
a piercing wound ... an agonizing struggle . . . dying 
gasps in the silent night — and then the creeping, shadowy 
figure slinking away from the rendezvous of death! A 
sizzler thai grips you from the opening line! 



Also HOW WE SMASHED the PLOT to OVERTHROW MEXICO, the astounding story of the trapping 
of General Estrada and his revolutionaries; CHICAGO'S "SHEIK" SLAYER, the amazing storv of 
Marty Durkin; The "BURNING GHOST" of LAKE NEBAGAMON, and other fact thrillers by America's 
leading detectives and police officials— all in the December TRUE DETECTIVE MYSTERIES, on all news 
stands Nov. 15th. Be sure to get your copy of this issue! 



(MEMBER OF TRUE ROMANCES GROUP) 



PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY NEW METROPOLITAN FICTION, INC., WASHINGTON AND SOUTH AVICS., DUN1CLLFN NEW IERSFV 
Editorial and General Offices: 1926 Broadway, New York, N. Y. Advertising Offices: Graybar Building, New York City J 

Edwin E. Zoty, President . . , M, A. Wood, Secretary Gilbert L. Parks 1 dveriitinr nt&Hx. 

Copyright. 1929. by New Metropolitan Fiction. Inc. Copyright also in Canada and Great Britain WW| """ ct °* 



Entered as second class malter.Sept. Zf., 1928, at the Post Office at Dunellen, New Jersey, under the Act of March 3, 1S79. Additional entry at New York V v 
Price 25c per Copy in U. S.— JOcln Canada. Subscription price $2.50 per year in the United States and possessions; also. Cuba Mexico and P»n»m. All 

other countries (including Canada) S4.00 per year. All rights reserved. ™ c ° ranama. All 

Chicago Office: 333 N. Michigan Ave.. C. H. Shattuck, Mgr. London Agents: Atlaa Publishing & Distributing Co.. Ltd., 18 Bride Lane London F r 
Contributors are advised to retain copies of their contributions: otherwise they are taking an unnecessary risk. Every effort will he made by us to return unav^LtZ 
manuscripts, photographs and drawings, but we wilt not be responsible for any losses of such matter contributed. The pictures used in this magazine uYStraUth, 
stories are of actual people, but are not intended to be a likeness of, nor to depict the individuals named in such stories, unless such pictures are specific^^ labile ' 



1 



Printed in U. S. A., by Art Color Printing Co.. Ouncllen, N.J. 



True Detective Mysteries 



3 




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GCTS J12.000 JOB 

Dm Mr. Cooke- Since 
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S150 A WCCK 

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WHY earn $15 or $20 or $30 a 
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Electricity — The Big Pay Field 

t Today even the ordinary Electrician — the "screw 
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L. L. COOKE, Chlet Instruction Engineer 

L. L. COOKE SCHOOL 
OF ELECTRICITY 

Dept. US 
ZlSO Lawrence Avenue 
^s^-^^ Chicago, Illinois 

£13 'j'yi 




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ft Address 



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THIS MONTH'S CONTRIBUTORS 



MAJOR GENERAL ALFRED F. 
FOOTE, author of The Strange 
Case of l : rances St. John Smith, 
appearing on page 18 of this issue, has a 
distinguished military record in both the 
Spanish-American and World Wars. 

A man of outstanding strength of will 
and purpose, he climbed the ladder of suc- 
cess through hard work, receiving plenty 
of hard knocks on the way up, after start- 
ing out "on his own," an orphan at the 
age of nine years, depending on his own 
resources for a livelihood while at the same 
time struggling to obtain an education. He 
succeeded — and became a school-teacher. 

Later, on January 2nd, 1896, he enlisted 
as a private in Company G, Second Regi- 
ment, Massachusetts Infantry. At the out- 
break of the Spanish-American War he 
was a corporal in this company and he 
participated in all the important battles of 
the Cuban campaign. He was promoted 
to sergeant and later to top sergeant dur- 
ing the war. After the Spanish-American 
War, he was successively promoted in his 
regiment to lieutenant, captain, and major. 
During the World War, his regiment was 
changed to the 104th Infantry, and after 
several months of service he was put in 
command. 

He commanded the 104th Infantry at 
Belleau Woods and at the Battle of 
Chateau Thierry. He was then detailed to 
the staff of General Edwards, commanding 
the 26th Division, and later was transferred 
to the Inspector General's Department, 
A. E. F., and re-assigned as Inspector Gen- 
eral of the 26th Division. 

General Foote was awarded the distin- 
guished service medal for "exceptionally 
meritorious and distinguished services" 
during the World War. He was also 
awarded the decoration of Commander of 
the Legion of Honor by the President of 
France, and has been the recipient of 
numerous other citations and decorations. 

A FTER the war, in 1919, General Foote 
was appointed Commissioner of Public 
Safety of Massachusetts by Governor Cal- 
vin Coolidge, and he has since continued 
in that office under Governors Cox, Fuller 
and Allen. He has charge of the State 
Police, the Detective Rurcau, the State 
Police Patrol, the regulation of Sunday 
entertainments, Rureau of Explosives and 



Inflammables, Building Inspection, the 
Boxing Commission, and numerous other 
responsibilities. 

General Foute is a man of democratic 
bearing and good fellowship, and is loved 
by his associates for his sterling qualities 
and likable personality. He lias a keen 
interest in detective • work, and followed 
through every phase of the FYances St. 
John Smith case with a tireless enthusiasm 
that inspired his men to leave no stone un- 
turned in the country-wide search for the 
missing girl. He believes that a better 
understanding should be had by the public, 
of the work of police authorities for the 
public good, and that a closer cooperation 
between law-abiding citizens and the police, 
in society's fight against the criminal ele- 
ment, is desirable and should be mutually 
sought for. 

> 

DISTRICT ATTORNEY JOHN E. 
McGEEHAX. of the Bronx, New 
York City, who this month gives 
readers of True Detective Mysteries the 
inside story of one of his most interesting 
cases, The Unmasking of "Mysterious 
Mrs. X," wanted to be a detective when 
he was a boy. 

When family objections thwarted this 
very worthy and thrilling ambition, he 
agreed to become a prosecutor, instead of 
a capturer, of criminals. True to his early 
instincts, however, Judge McGeehan "goes 
out" on criminal hunts himself, and works 
as hard as any member of the Detective 
Rureau sleuthing through haunts of the 
underworld on tips that come to his office. 

John E. McGeehan was born in New 
York City. He was educated at La Salle 
Academy and St. Francis Xavier, taking 
liis law later at Fordhara Law School, 
where he concentrated almost as much en- 
ergy in the baseball field, perhaps, as in 
his studies. Among his classmates were 
the future Mayor of New York, James J. 
Walker, and the late Police Commissioner 
Warren. " 

Shortly after graduating, he was ap- 
pointed Deputy Commissioner of Water 
Supply, Gas and Electricity, and was as- 
signed to the Rronx during Mayor Mitch- 
el's term. This was not exactly in line 
with his own inclinations, but whatever 
job he did, he did well, and on August 
(Continued on page 8) 



Murder! 



T IKE phantoms, these two millionaire youths swept through the streets of Atlanta 
A-/ in a superautomobile, spilling human blood as if it were so much water ! One out- 
rageous murder after another ! Never in the memory of the South have there been 
crimes so bold — or inhuman! Who were these fiends? The police were stumped — 
until they came across the clue of a jagged revolver plunger. Detective John Lowe, 
of the Atlanta Detective Bureau, gives the inside story on this famous case. It is 
entitled How I Trapped Atlanta's Millionaire "Thrill" Slayers and it will 
appear in the November issue of 

The Master Detective 

Other masterpieces of fact, illustrated with actual photographs and based en- 
tirely on police records, will include The Riddle of the heft-Handed Horror: 
The Love Murder at Big Moose Lake; How We Caught the Kansas City 
"Convention Bandits"; On the Trail of the Spider Girl; and Ger the 
Lone Wolf! 

The MASTER DETECTIVE for November goes on sale at all news stands October 
23rd. It is a Macfadden publication- twenty-five cents in the United States — 
thirty cents in Canada. 



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(Continued from page 6) 



15th, 1917, he was rewarded by being ap- 
pointed City Magistrate. In June, 1922, 
Mayor Hylan reappointed him for a full 
term. 

It was while he was sitting on the magis- 
trate's bench that he obtained an extraor- 
dinarily extensive knowledge of crooks, 
their psychology, their haunts and their 
families. This was of great aid to him 
when he was made District Attorney of 
the Bronx, which is a city in itself, with 
more than 1,000,000 inhabitants. 

In a very short space of time, Judge 
McGeehan became known all over the coun- 
try. He has practical ideas about crime 
and how to prevent it, and is swamped 
with invitations to speak on those subjects 
before conventions. How adequately he 
has put his theories into practise is demon- 
strated by the fact that the Brcnx has a 
very high conviction rate, and crime there 
is on the decline. In the whole area there 
is no house of prostitution nor gambling 
establishment— unless it be one that has to 
move its location each day or two, one lap 
ahead of the law! 

So well ... : :1 he fill this office that on May 
7th, 1926, Governor Smith signed a bill 
increasing his salary from $15,000 to 
$20,000 a year, which is the same amount 
that District Attorney Banton of New 
York County receives. 

"Newspapers are often maligned," he 
said recently, "for their plethora of crime 
news. But I believe that those stories 
which give space to the capture and pun- 
ishment of criminals, rather than to their 
spectacular feats of law-breaking, do real 
good in preventing young men from enter- 
ing careers of crime." 

There is none of the customary antago- 
nism between Judge McGeehan's office and 
the police department, for this district at- 



torney is no amateur detective. He pos- 
sesses, in an extraordinary degree, any of 
the New York Police Department detec- 
tives will tell you, the gift of obtaining 
information without appearing to ask for 
any. 

Judge McGeehan's term as District At- 
torney expires this year, and he is slated 
to become a Supreme Court Justice. This is 
a great honor, but, he says, he will miss 
the fascinating game of sharpening wits 
with the underworld. 

Because of his splendid physique, Judge 
McGeehan can remain out all night on an 
investigation and then appear in his office 
as fresh and untired as if he had gone to 
bed at curfew. 

BFXAUSI : he believes that such stories 
as those which appear in True De- 
tective Mysteries have a splendid influ- 
ence in portraying to youth the evil results 
of crime, Judge McGeehan will from time 
to time give its readers others garnered 
from his vast store. 

Judge McGeehan does not believe that 
the average crook enters on a crime career 
from innate viciousness. All boys, he says, 
are hero worshipers : which is as it should 
be, if they would always discriminate in 
picking out their heroes. He recalls an 
instance in which a lightweight champion 
kept the minds and morals of a whole 
school directed along the straight and nar- 
row path by a series of common-sense 
lectures. 

Friends of the Judge attribute his great 
success in handling criminals, both young 
and old, to his humanness. He does not 
talk down to them from a pedestal, but 
attunes his conversation with them to a 
common basis of sympathy, understanding 
and justice. 



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Cash for Opinions 

^^HEN you have read this issue of True Detective Mys- 
teries Magazine, let us know what you think of the stories 
it contains. 

Which story is best? Which do you like the least? Why? Have 
you any helpful suggestions in mind? 

Ten dollars will be paid to the person whose letter, in the opinion 
of judges in charge of these awards, offers the most intelligent, con- 
structive criticism ; $5 to the letter considered second best ; $3 to the 
third. 

Address your opinions to the Judges of Award, c/o True De- 
tective Mysteries, 1926 Broadway, New York, N. Y. This 
contest closes November 30th, 1929. 

The three awards will be made promptly. 



Prizes for Opinions on the 

July True Detective Mysteries 
were awarded as follows: 

Fi'rsr Prize $10 
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287 14 East Main St., Columbus, Ohio 

Second Prize $5 Third Prize $3 

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The "AGENT" from Hong Kong 

■ 

Mysterious Methods of Dope Smugglers Are 
Revealed by the Ring's Shadow-Agent 

As told to Uthai Vincent Wilcox 



I WAS a carrying-agent in the service 
of an international drug-distributing 
ring. For a number of years I played 
the game, made money, played my 
part. Rut I can truthfully say that after 
the first negotiations I never knew with 
whom I was working. I landed thousands 
of dollars worth of opium, but have not 
the slightest idea as to who the men were 
who got it. 1 never set eyes upon them, 
nor, as far as I know, they upon me. 

It was in Hong Kong that I was one 
day accosted by a well-dressed young Chi- 
nese, who spoke perfect English, and who, 
I afterward learned, was earning a very 
meager wage in one of the banks of the 
city as a clerk. To have suggested that 
he was concerned in the schemes of a 
great opium ring would have seemed like 
a joke. 

But this Chinese was no common clerk. 
He spoke perfect English, was well-read 
in European and American history, ap- 
peared to feel a strong loyalty to the 
Government then in power, and had, as 
well, a considerable knowledge of chemis- 
try and navigation. 

After some desultory conversation he 
staggered me by announcing that the Syn- 
dicate had for sometime had me tinder 
surveillance and had decided that I would 
make an excellent carrying-agent. They 
would like me to undertake running into 
Manila, Philippine Islands, where the 
market was excellent and where the tin 
of opium that in Hong Kong is worth $3 
soars to astounding prices of $50 and 
$60. The retail value makes one dizzy to 
contemplate. 

My pay was to be on a commission basis 
so that the more I got in, the greater 
amount would be my share of the profits. 

In my then depleted financial condition 
his arguments were unanswerable, and his 
persuasion overcame everything. I agreed 
to become a carrying-agent. All the time 
I promised myself that I would stop, once 
I had myself out of debt. 

WE 'rickshawed out to a quiet place 
where there was no chance of being 
overheard, and there I received my final in- 
structions. I was to have nothing to do 
with getting the opium aboard the ship 
upon which I was to ride as a passenger. 
The opium would just happen to be on the 
boat and if it was discovered by revenue 
officers I was to disclaim all knowledge 
of it — if by chance I was even suspected. 
All I had to do was to convey the stuff 
to Manila — and land it, which was where 
the fun would begin. 

My newly-made Chinese friend seemed 
to know Manila Bay perfectly and drew 
me a small map of it. My instructions 
were to land the dope down near Cavite 
and bury it in the sand, without leaving 
any more marks than I could help. "They'' 
would know where to find it as long as I 
carried out all the instructions perfectly. 



If the Customs and Secret Service 
launches which patrol the Bay day and 
night — especially at night — were too alert, 
I was just to drop it over the stern of the 
ship in a net, to which would be attached 
a piece of string to keep a small bung 
just below the surface of the water. On 
another small card were the soundings of 
almost every part of the Bay where our 
steamer would be likely to anchor. In 
case of throwing it overboard I was to 
make certain flashlight signals from my 
port-hole at 10 P. M., no matter which 
way the said port-bole pointed. 

It all sounded very mysterious and im- 
possible at first. But I agreed to try, for 
I was willing to take the chance in con- 
sideration of the rewards in view. 

My Oriental friend advised me to have 
a small skiff of my. own for the purpose 
of landing the stuff. It could be stowed 
away somewhere on deck where it could 
be easily launched, and yet not be very 
noticeable. Further, it would be an excel- 
lent idea if I- went in for marine zoology, 
or some other scientific pursuit, which 
would justify my floating about the face 
of the bay at unseasonable hours. 

He also remembered that at a certain 
Chinese yard there was the very skiff that 
I required, and that I would find it spe- 
cially fitted and equipped for my purpose. 

The next day I went to the Chinese 
boat-yard ; and the aged Chinese in charge 
led the way to a small shed, where I saw 
the identical craft I required. I expressed 
approval and he promised that the boat 
would be aboard that afternoon, cash-on- 
de livery. 

WE were due away that evening ; and 
when I came up from dinner I was 
amazed to see my skiff stowed snugly away 
in the stern, where it was hardly noticeable, 
but easy to get at. My laundry came 
aboard, and I paid the account and sent it 
below. I waited and watched to see how 
they would bring the opium on board and I 
wondered how I was to know about it. 

The captain was on the bridge, and there 
was but little to do. I saw no sign of 
opium, however, right up to the ringing of 
the last bell, when there was a great scurry 
of people going ashore, at which time a 
portly Chinese, who had apparently been 
seeing someone off. came walking down 
the gangway with the serenity of a god. 
the sunlight flashing on the gold buttons 
that starred the front of his tunic of blue 
silk. He looked at no one, but walked 
down the gangway with his eyes firmly 
fixed ahead, as though wrapped in the 
contemplation of some far-away thoughts. 
1 asked an attendant who he was. 
He, it seemed, was the laundry boss. 
As we steamed away there came to me 
a feeling of disappointment, not unmixed 
with a sense of relief that the Syndicate 
had turned me down. 

{Continued on [•age 126) 

• 



True Detective Mysteries 



Smashing 

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12 



True Detective Mysteries 




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136-11 Odd Fellows Temple 
JAMESTOWN, N. Y. 




RUPTURE 



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The Death Secret of 
Lovers' Dell 

The true account of an astounding 
case — a story that will keep 
you guessing! 

By Zeta Rothschild 



IN real life the clues that await a 
competent detective usually lead in 
several directions. There is no royal 
road to the solution of a mystery. Just 
when the detective thinks he has located 
the guilty person, he is frequently dum- 
founded to find that the evidence he has 
uncovered, instead of establishing the guilt 
of the accused, proves, on the contrary, 
his innocence! 

It was so in the case of the Szenzi fam- 
ily, when five members of one household 
died from eating mushrooms, with which 
toadstools had been mixed. The two sur- 
vivors were the first to be suspected. Each 
of them had had several opportunities to 
mix the poisonous weed with the good 
mushrooms. Each had a motive which 
might cause such an act, and, to the detec- 
tive working on the case, there were clues 
indicating their guilt. Nevertheless, the 
guilty person was found to be one who had 
but little motive for poisoning the Szenzis. 

The head of the family, Herr Szenzi, 
was a respectable market-gardener who 
lived on the outskirts of Vienna. Besides 
the father, there were his wife, three 
daughters, a nephew named Frederick, and 
a general servant, Pauline Krensci. 

The pride of the Szenzi gardens were 
the mushrooms, which were grown in beds 
underground in a sort of cave-like cellar. 
So precious were these beds that Herr 
Szenzi rarely let anyone else tend them. 
And, only on special occasions did he con- 
tribute any of them to his own family 
table. For some reason, however, on this 
particular Sunday, Szenzi made two ex- 
ceptions to his general rule ; he sent the 
maid-servant, Pauline Frensci, down to the 
cellar and told her to pick a dishful of the 
mushrooms, and add them to the stewed 
chicken which was to form the principal 
portion of the mid-day dinner. 

Another clue, which somewhat justified 
the detective in thinking that Pauline might 
be the guilty person, was that on this par- 
ticular Sunday, the servant cooked the 
dinner. Usually, the eldest daughter did 
the cooking. But, on this occasion, she 
was busy making a confirmation dress for 
the youngest girl, and told Pauline to pre- 
pare the meal. 

Anyway, punctually at noon, the Szenzi 
family, including Frederick and Pauline, 
sat down to a steaming dish of stewed 
chicken and mushrooms. Before the sun 
had set, the father, mother, and three 
daughters were dead. Pauline and Fred- 
erick, while they had also been quite ill, 
recovered. 



The chicken had been perfectly good; 
the mushrooms had come from Szenzis 
own beds. It was difficult to see how the 
dish could have caused the death of the 
Szenzis. But, if toadstools hail been intro- 
duced into the mushroom beds in the cellar, 
then the effects would extend all over the 
city of Vienna, for, on the preceding 
Friday, Szenzi, himself, had made the 
usual delivery to the hotels and restaurants 
that depended on him for their mushrooms. 

But, strange to say, there was not a 
single report that Sunday, or during the 
following week, of any sudden death from 
poisoning. Nevertheless, the police de- 
cided to keep the mushroom cellars sealed 
until the coroner had completed his autop- 
sies on the Szenzis. 

Shortly, this report was made public. 
Mixed with the mushrooms had been some 
poisonous fungi. These fungi — or toad- 
stools — had caused the death of the Szenzis. 

The question now before the Viennese 
police was, whether these poisonous fungi 
had been added to the stewed chicken by 
accident or intention? If the former, how 
was it that the mushrooms delivered in 
Vienna that week had all been good? If 
there had been poisonous fungi in the 
mushroom beds on Sunday, how was it 
there were none on the preceding Friday ? 
And, if they had been added to the dinner 
during the preparation of the meal, who 
was responsible ? 

THE next step was to thoroughly exam- 
ine the mushroom beds in the cellar. 
Without letting either Frederick or Paulino 
know of his intention, the detective assigned 
to the case slipped into the house, opened 
the padlocked door to the cellar, cautiously 
closed it, and, with the aid of a search- 
light, started to make a careful scrutiny. 

To his satisfaction, he found what he 
was after in a very short time. Growing 
among the good mushrooms, he found sev- 
eral poisonous toadstools, so closely resem- 
bling the mushrooms, that anyone picking 
them in the dark cellar, would not have 
hesitated to gather them along with the 
edible mushrooms. Te his astonishment, 
however, he found that they had not grown 
in that bed, but had been stuck in it by 
hand ! 

The detective gathered a handful of the 
toadstools and slipped them into his pocket. 
He made his way upstairs and out, with- 
out arousing the suspicions of the two 
survivors of the poisonous meal. 

With the toadstools in hand, the detec- 
(Continued on page 124) 



True Detective Mysteries 



13 



Raised His Pay #4800 After Reading 
This Amazing BookWhich Is RqwFBEE/ 

* — ' Based on the combined exoeriences of F. B. Eneiehardt. Chattanooga. Tenn.. A. F. 



Thompson, Sli 




Caught in a Rut 



I wonder I put up with it as long as I did! Every 
day was filled with nothing but deadly routine 
and monotonous detail. No freedom or indepen- 
dence. No chance to get out and meet people, 
travel, nor have interesting experiences. I was 
iust like a cog in a big machine with poor pros- 
pects of ever being anything more. 




Long, Tiresome Hours 

Every hour of the day I was under somebody's 
supervision. The TIME-CLOCK constantly 
laid in wait for me — a monument to unfulfilled 
hopes and dying ambition. Four times a day, 
promptly on the dot, it hurled its silent chal- 
lenge at my self-respect, reminding me how un- 
important I was and how little I really COUN- 
TED in the business and social world I 



Low Pay 



Paid just enough to keep going — but never 
enough to enjoy any of the GOOD things of life 
every man DESERVES for his family and him- 
self. Always economizing and pinching pennies. 
Always wondering what I would do if I were 
laid off or lost my job. Always uncertain and 
apprehensive of the future. 






Desperate 



Happened to get a look at the payroll one day 
and was astonished to see what big salaries went 
to the sales force. Found that salesman Brown 
made $200 a week — and Jenkins $275! Would 
have given my right arm to make money that 
fast, but never dreamed I had any "gift" for 
salesmanship. 



A Ray of Light 

Stumbled across an article on salesmanship in a 
magazine that evening. Was surprised to dis- 
cover that salesmen were made and not "born" 
as I had foolishly believed. Read about a former 
cowpuncher, Wm. Shore of California, making 
$525 in one week after learning the ins-and-outs 
of scientific salesmanship. Decided that if HE 
could do it, so could II 



The Turning Point 

My first step was to write for a certain little 
book which a famous business genius has called 
"The MOST AMAZING BOOK EVER PRIN- 
TED". It wasn't a very bid book, but it cer- 
tainly opened my eyes to things I had never 
dreamed of— and proved the turning point of 
my entire career! 



What I Discovered 

V Between the pages of this 
remarkable volume, I dis- 
covered hundreds of little 
known facts and secrets 
that revealed the REAL 
TRUTH about the science 
of selling! It wasn't a bit as 
I had imagined. I found 
out that it was governed by 
simple rules and laws that 
almost ANY man can mas- 
ter as easily as he learned the alphabet, I even 
learned how to go about getting into this "high- 
est paid of all professions". I found out exactly 
how Mark Barichievich of San Francisco was 
enabled to quit his $8 a week job asa restaurant- 
worker and start making $125 a week as a 
salesman; and how C. W. Birmingham of Day- 
ton, Ohio, jumped from $15 a week to $7500 a 
year— these and hundreds of others! It cer- 
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3 



Was ItAVorth It? 

Today my salary is $4800 greater than ever 
before! No more punching time-clocks or worry- 
ing over dimes and quarters! NOW my services 
are in REAL DEMAND with bigger prospects 
for the future than I ever dared HOPE for back 
in those days when I was just another "name", 
on a pay-roll I 




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Making Good At Last! 

It didn't take me long to decide to cast my lot 
with N. S. T. A. — and after a few weeks I had 
mastered "The Key To Master Salemanship" 
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one which paid me over $70 a week to ttart! 




Mail It Today! 

Simply fill out coupon below 
and mail to National Sales- 
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Dept. S-742. N. S. T A. 
Bldg. . Chicago. 111. 



• Train'"* h „ l\llno<». | 

I Hatne 

( Addr«» st ate j 

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> A*e — • 

1--- _ 



14 



T rue Detective Mysteries 



" c 5Hbw ( l trapped cAtlanta' s 
(fMMionaire 
thrill 



Slayers" 

By JOHN W. LOWE 

of the Atlanta Georgia Detective Bureau 

As told to 

JAMES BELFLOWER 
of the Atlanta Georgian 

NIGHT after night a mysterious, 
gaily colored roadster screamed 
through Atlanta's streets ignoring 
all speed limits, striking terror into the 
hearts of the residents of the Georgian 
Metropolis. At each street intersection 
an automatic barked in the hand of one 
of the car's occupants shattering the 
overhead light. Awakened residents and 
policemen on beat saw nothing but the 
dancing red automobile tail light melting 
into the night. 

The police bent every effort to learn the 
identity of the occupants of the car — 
for they sensed something unusual was 
in the wind — and if the marauders 
we're not apprehended there was no 
telling what might happen. Atlanta 
was seething with public indignation. 
\\ omen kept off the streets at night 
and men abroad after dark glanced 
fearfully over their shoulders at the 
approach of strange cars, fearful of 
being the next target for the un- 
canny marksman who rode like the 
wind in the eerie car. 

Then a storm of terror broke loose 
in the Southern City that howled 
through the streets like an avenging 
wolf pack. The specially built, high 
powered car still roared through 
Atlanta's streets but now the Angel 
of Death was at the zvheelll 

A scries of holdups followed leav- 




Read — — November 



25c — 



on all stands 



ing a sickening trail of blood and murder 
as the car sped its gruesome fiendish 
way. But parallel to the trail of blood 
was a thread that was to become a finger 
of guilt pointing to the murderers! 
For at the scene of every shooting fray 
there was found the murderer's mark! 

Then followed a scries of amazing 
detective exploits . . . sleuthing of the 
highest magnitude . . . until the slippery 
walls of impenetrable mystery were 
scaled with but a threading clue for a 
guide. Finally Atlanta's super sleuths 
cornered their hunt. There is no parallel 
in the annals of Atlanta's police history 
for the brilliant work performed. And 
now Detective John W. Lowe has told 
his story in full for the first time. 

Read his gripping story of law 
defying youth, reckless in its 
search for forbidden thrills . . . 
in the November issue of The 
Master Detective. Read how 
the police trapped the two mil- 
lionaire slayers whom you see 
above and convicted them on 
the strength of an exploded shell. 
If you love tense drama and 
high excitement don't miss this 
tremendous story of two "Thrill" 
murderers. 



Actual photograph 
above of detectives 
with George Harsh 
(wearing handcuffs) 
one of the millionaire 
avers. Below 
Richard Gallegly, 
scion of famous 
wealthy family as 
he appears in 
Atlanta's Rogues 
Gallery. These two 
youtns were apprehended after 
they had perpetrated scenes of 
such horror that all Atlanta 
was quaking with fear. Do 
they look criminal? Read 
Sergeant Lowe's story. . . . 
All of the stories in The Master De- 
tective arc true, and all of them are 
illustrated with official photographs. 
Read of stirring chases after "Super" 
crooks — of famous detectives forging 
clues into links strong enough to send a 
murderer to the chair. Follow the 
sleuths in their underworld intrigues to 
locate their quarry. Be with them when 
they make their capture! Read hours 
and hours of thrilling — gripping tales, 
true — yet so unbelievably strange you'll 
need the official photographs to convince 
vou that they actually happened. Buy The 
M aster Detective at your news dealer 
or fill in the special offer coupon below. 



i 



MACFADDEN PUBLICATIONS. Inc.. 
I 1926 Broadway. New York. Dept. T D-119 

J Gentlemen: j 

I I am enclosing $1.00 for which please enter my | 

name to receive The Master Detective Maga- . 

I zine for the next five months beginning with the I 



current issue. 



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.State. 



True Detective Mysteries 



15 



c Who isjas the cMan 
the ffron SVCask? 

THIS mysterious prisoner on the ramparts of an island prison has always excited the mo: 
intense interest. What was the life which he exchanged for one silent as the grave? 
What had he done? Who was he ? What was his past ? The dissolute life of a courtier? 
Or the devious ways of an intriguing diplomat ? Had some fair one 
in the hallowed circle of royalty loved not wisely but too well? Why 
during all these years has he remained the greatest of all mysteries? 

NONE DARED TELL SECRET 



Some believe that he was a twin or even 
elder brother of Louis XIV, a true heir to the 
crown hidden from the time of his birth. 
Others think that he was the elder illegitimate 
son of Charles II; or that he, and not Louis XIII, 
was the actual father of I-ouis XIV. Some have 
thought that he was the son of Buckingham 
and the Queen of France ; others, that he was 
the son of Louis XIV and De la Valliere. 
To have revealed it would have cost anyone 
his life. The regent admitted when drunk 
that the prisoner was a son of Anne of Austria 
and Mazarin. Louis XV refused to tell Madame 
de Pompadour. Madame Campan stated that 
Louis XVI did not know the secret. De Chamil- 
lart on his deathbed declined to reveal the secret 

MASKED— HIS FACE HIS SECRET 
In 1669 there was hurried across France a 
masked man whose identity was shrouded in 
mystery. Never has a prisoner been guarded 
with such vigilance and with such fear of his 
story becoming known. He was taken to an 
island prison where the governor carried his 
food to him ; a confessor saw him once a year, 
but no other visitor ever laid eyes on him. 
He was always masked — his face alone would 
tell his secret. 

He was well treated; supplied -with fine 
clothing, books, and served from silver dishes. 



The governor stood before him 
uncovered, and addressed him 
as Mon prince. When the 
prisoner wrote messages on his 
white linen he was supplied 
only with black. 

He is not a myth, as is proven 
by letters between Louvois, the 
minister, and Saint-Mars, the governor of the 
prison. These are all written in veiled lan- 
guage; never once is he given a name. No 
letter mentions his crime or whether he had. 
committed one. 

SECRET EVEN AFTER DEATH 
This horrible punishment ended when, in 
1703, the most mysterious of all prisoners died 
and was buried in the dead of night, under a 
false name, and given a false age. 

His cell was carefully painted so that any 
message he might have written would be 
covered up, and everything he used was de- 
stroyed lest any clew might be left. Thus 
vanished a man whose name and identity was 
unknown even to his gaoler — some think even 
to the prisoner himself. 

WHY WAS HIS LIFE PRESERVED? 

What was the reason for all this secrecy? 
What crime, if any, did this man, evidently 
of exalted rank, commit that he should be 




buried alive f 

life? Wh; 
the king pre- 
serve the life 
of this prison- 
er? Why did he 
not have him 
put to death? 
The subject 
becomes more 
mysterious as 
we investigate. 
LONG 
BURIED 
RECORDS 
FOUND 

The mystery has always terrified the im- 
agination and excited speculation. With the 
nineteenth century came an opportunity to 
search long-buried records. Dumas did so 
and told the whole story in one of .the 
volumes of the strangest and most curious 
set of books ever published, which he called 



CELEBRATED CRIMES 

A collection NEVER BEFORE COMPLETELY TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH of storief 

of the most sensational crimes; crimes prompted by illicit love, envy, ambition, religion — stories of poison plots, 
abductions, treachery, intrigue, and conspiracies, gleaned from hidden archives. We pass through secret pas- 
sages, see lurking figures and the gleam of the assassin's blade; we hear the muffled moan, the splash, hurried 
footsteps. It is the first and absolutely the only complete and unabridged translation of this series. Printed 
from the same plates as the edition de luxe, sold at % 100.00 a set, the edition offered is illustrated by 
Jacques Wagrez of Paris and beautifully bound with emblematic design in gold. 

No EDITION of DUMAS Contains These Stories; And no SET is COMPLETE Without Them 

INTRIGUES OF A LICENTIOUS COURT 




In one volume Dumas tells us of the vices and crimes 
of that extraordinary family, the Borgias, that furnished 
one pope and some of the blackest pages in history. 
We see the whole murderous, poisonous crew with 
their greedy craving for debauchery, titles, and gold. 
We watch the career of the beautiful but depraved 
Lucrezia. We see the intrigues of the medieval papal 
court — the murders, abductions, poisonings — drawn 
from the chronicles of eye-witnesses which frankly 
call a spade a spade. 

NOTHING IN THE WORLD LIKE THEM 
Let Dumas tell you about the beautiful but 
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Scotland, her amours, her barbarous imprison- 
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intimately the men and women whose crimes 
have contributed the tragedy to the history 
of the Old World. 

DUMAS' MASTERPIECE 
Think of a fascinating series— of which only 
a few have had any knowledge — by Alexandre 
Dumas, who gave you your first real taste for 
European history while following the advent- 
ures of D'Artagnan in The Three Musketeers. 



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T. L>. M. 11-29 



The LAW and 

DEMOCRACY 

By Charles H. Tuttle 

United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York 

• 

(NOTE: Mr. Tuttle is the directing head of the most important U. S. District under the Attorney General — his 
territory embracing nine counties with a population of four millions — much of its activity arising from the 
great arteries of commerce and shipping that center in the Port of New York. Covering a wide field of Federal 
lawbreaking, from bankruptcy frauds and violations of the postal laws, to income taxes and smuggling of 
narcotics, he handles the difficult problems of his office from the Old Post Office Building in New York, 
through a corps of 45 Assistant U. S. Attorneys. There is no one better qualified to speak on the problem of 
the laws and their administration, and what he has to say on this subject is of special interest at this time. Ed.) 

■ 

JUSTICE has always been the chief concern of mankind and the goal of 
civilization. In the United States we have built up a vast superstructure of 
things and affairs without parallel in history. Life has become so Complex, 
business so involved, and government so intricate that there is a danger that, 
unless the foundations be sufficiently strong and enduring, we shall be crushed 
beneath the mere mass of things. 

Hence, the chief problem before the American people is the preservation of 
the majesty of the law — the successful solution of their relation to the law and 
the law's relation to them. 

Of necessity, this is true in any democracy which rests upon the principle of 
government by law and not by men ; but at the present time it is peculiarly true 
in our own country, where the Only power sufficiently cohesive to hold together 
the whole vast superstructure of cooperation — governmental, economic and 
social — is the law, in the sense of the legal order. Anything which weakens the 
cohesive power of the law tends to bring about disintegration. 

That such a weakening has already occurred, there are many contemporary 
signs; and the President, in appointing a commission to study the causes and the 
remedies, has declared that this weakening has already progressed so far as to 
bring about a subsidence of the foundations of government. 

The problem of crime is only part of this greater problem of preserving the 
dominance of the law. In order to check the increased and increasing extent of 
crime, it is necessary, in the first place, to bring home to the consciousness of 
society the responsibility of society for the causes which result in crime. 

Every instance of social injustice inflicts upon society the punishment of 
increased crime. A wage scale inadequate to satisfy the normal cultural desires 
of the human being; bad and unsanitary housing; indifference to debased forms 
of recreation; systems of education from which idealism and spirituality are 
omitted; inadequate training in the means of earning an honorable livelihood; 
failure to place within the reach of all the medical skill necessary to the pres- 
ervation of a sound mind in a sound body ; a corrupt or inefficient government — 
all are active causes of crime, the responsibility for which must rest in large part 
upon society itself. The cure, consequently, is in educating society to its re- 
sponsibility and in inspiring it with the will and with the enlightened self-interest 
to overcome these evil causes and conditions. 

In addition, we need in America to have a better understanding of lawmaking 
as a science. The unending output of our State and Federal legislatures has 

(Continued on page 114) 



The STRANGE CASE of 



Here, General Foote, for the first time in any publication, reveals 
the inside facts in this famous case that for weeks was given 
nation-wide publicity by newspapers throughout the entire 
country — a case, the like of which has seldom happened in the 
history of strange disappearances 



By Major General Alfred F. Foote 

Commissioner of Public Safety, Massachusetts State Police 

As told to Lowell Ames Norris 

of the Boston Sunday HERALD 




WITHIN the at- 
tractive borders 
of Northa 
Massach 
the New Eng- 
land city made 
famous as the 
home of Ex- 
President Calvin 
Coolidge, lies the 
picturesque, 
tree-shaded 
campus of Smith 
College. 

Here, year af- 
ter year, come 
girls from all 
parts of the 
United States, 
and here, re- 
gardless of re- 
ligious creed, so- 
cial background 
and financial 
standing, they 
become one 
great sisterhood, 
forming friend- 
ships and other 
worth-while re- 
lationships that 
will last long af- 
ter studies have 
been forgotten. 
Good fortune as 
a whole has 

smiled upon this New England college founded by Sophia 
Smith years ago. Although thousands upon thousands of 
girls have entered its doors and passed successfully on to 
matriculate in the university of life, the breath of scandal has 
never brought disrepute upon its escutcheon, and the tradi- 
tional austerity supposed to distinguish New England and its 
various institutions has been successfully and faithfully main- 
tained. 

Within the last few years, however, the gaunt hand of 
tragedy has struck once, and then twice, upon this beautiful 
campus where green trees, blue skies and white clouds reflect 
their natural beauties in the placid waters of Paradise Pond, 
an adjacent artificial five-acre lake. 

The first blow came on Friday, the 13th of November, 1925, 

18 



\l-h.<l„ by BiU (>'(•.-.» a..r) 

General Foote (on the left), whose masterful qualities as a police director are well 
known, is here seen discussing the Frances St. John Smith case with one of his officers, 
the late Detective Lieutenant Joseph V. Daly, who was given direct responsibility in 
the nation-wide search for the mysteriously missing heiress, freshman at Smith College 



when pretty Alice Corbett, 
a Smith College junior, 
vanished mysteriously from 
her room. On her desk 
was f o u n d a 
hastily scribbled 
note: 

"Mother, I am 
going homel" 

Laughing, 
blue-eyed Alice, 
of Utica, New 
York, never re- 
turned to ex- 
plain the mean- 
i n g o f th i s 
cryptic note. A 
search of her 
100m revealed 
little save a few 
passionate love- 
letters written 
to a boy in a 
near-by college. 
The authoiities 
redoubled their 
efforts to un- 
earth informa- 
tion. Mr. and 
Mrs. James H. 
Corbett, the 
girl's parents, 
offered $1,000 to 
anyonewho 

could give definite information concerning her — dead or alive. 

Paradise Pond and other near-by lakes were drained under 
the direction of the late Detective Lieutenant Joseph V. 
Daly of the Massachusetts State Police, working as usual in 
cooperation with the local police authorities. They grappled 
in the Connecticut River and other neighboring streams, and 
they found — nothing. Alice Corbett had disappeared without 
trace. 

A year passed. The reward money remained on deposit in 
the Amherst bank. More time elapsed. No one claimed the 
reward. The past guarded well its secret from the prying, 
curious eyes of the present. 

Meanwhile 

Another Friday the 13th was slowly approaching. 



Frances St. John Smith 



EMGHTEEN-year-old Frances St. John 
Smith was merely one of the 2,500 
girls at Smith College, and a girl who 
played a very unimportant part in col- 
legiate life. 

That was as Frances St. John Smith 
wished it. It was the way she wanted to 
live. Shy and retiring, although dis- 
tinctly gifted in many ways, the girl 
disliked to parade her talents before the 
world. Easily confused, self-conscious 
and extremely sensitive about the or- 
dinary things that make up life, this girl, 
said to be worth several millions of dollars 
in her own name, was content to live in a 
dreamland of mystic fancies, a world 
brought into being by love of music in the 
soul of a girl that held nothing but beauti- 
ful thoughts in which no stirrings of 
adolescent desires consciously intermin- 
gled. Men were merely casual acquaint- 
ances. Proms and petting parties played 
no part in her life. 

The girl was entirely normal. Aftei an 
ordinary school education in New York 
City she entered Milton Academy in the 
town of Milton, Massachusetts, during 
the fall of 1924. Here she remained for 
three years, and during the last two, spent 
as a boarding student, she not only at- 
tained high honors in her class but was also 
elected to the presidency of a musical 
group. As a result of her marked ability 
and high intelligence, a recommendation 
was made by the head mistress of the 
academy for a college education. Smith 
was the college finally determined upon 
by her parents. 

Although she made three or four friends 
while at Milton, she had only one intimate. 
This was Joy Kimball, daughter of a 
prominent Milton physician. No other 
person really seemed to matter to this poor 
little rich girl except Joy Kimball, and it 
was to her that she confided her problems 
and troubles, which could not have been 
many, because the home life of her 
parents was ideal. 




AMONG that picked handful of friends, 
only one continued on with her after 
leaving Milton Academy. This was Joy 
Kimball, who went to Smith also. How- 
ever, a great disappointment was In store 
for them when they reached Northampton. 
The two girls were separated. Joy was 
assigned a room at the Northrope House 
while Frances was given a room at the 
Dewey House on the third floor, in charge of genial Mrs. 
James S. Atwell, the matron. 

I -ate fall became early winter. Frances, still shy and re- 
tiring, made few friends. Thanksgiving' came and went. The 
Christmas holidays were at hand, and Frances left to spend 
the few days' recess with her parents in their fashionable New 
York home. The new year of 1928 was at hand. Smith Col- 
lege opened wide its doors again. Frances St. John Smith and 
her numerous trunks returned to Northampton. But she was 
not herself. Something was wrong. Joy Kimball sensed it. 

A week or so went by, and matters resumed their old 
routine. It was on a Thursday that Joy Kimball and Frances 



This unusual photograph of Frances St. John Smith was used by Detective Lieut. 
Daly in answering the many thousands of letters from amateur detectives and 
others, who wrote to him saying they had located the missing college girl. After 
receiving a copy of this photograph, most of them changed their minds. How- 
ever, the girl herself wrote a letter, before she disappeared, that did arouse the 

keen interest of Daly! 



St. John Smith had a long talk in Frances' room at Dewey 
Hall. The- next morning Joy returned to Frances' room. 
It had rained heavily during the night and, although the 
window near the fire-escape in the girl's room was partly 
open, Joy noticed that the window-sill was dry and that there 
was no pool of water upon the floor. 

The room itself was empty. Apparently Frances had 
stepped out for a moment. Seated at her friend's desk, Joy 
penned a short note and placed it near an unopened letter 
that lay on the desk. She was busy during that day, and 
found no time to return until the next morning. Her note 
was as she had left it the morning before! For a moment she 

19 



20 



True Detective Mysteries 



was slightly worried — then a dripping face cloth reassured her. 

Throwing the note she had written the day before into the 
waste-basket, she wrote a second note and left it on the desk. 
Some time later that evening she knocked again on Frances' 
door, although no welcoming crack of light shone forth from 
beneath it. There was no answer. 

She knocked again. 

Still there was no answer! 

Joy opened the door and walked in. The room was empty. 
On the table, in exactly the position she had left it, was her 
second note. The stillness of the room was oppres- 
sive. A faint odor of something aromatic seemed 
omnipresent. 

For the first time, Joy sensed a distinct feeling of 



Frances St. John Smith had not 
occupied her room for more than 
twenty-four hours. 

Where was she? . . . 

'T'HE telephone in the office of 
■ Detective Lieutenant Joseph 
V. Daly of the Massachusetts 
State Police at Northampton 
rang again and again in impera- 
tive fashion. 

Lieutenant Daly lifted the re- 
ceiver. 

"Hello," he said. 

An agitated voice replied. 
Something was wrong at Smith 
College. A girl had been missing 
for more than twenty-four hours. 
The matron of Dewey House was 
worried. The president of the 
college was out of the city. 
What could be done? 

Yes, it was Lieutenant Daly 
speaking. He reassured the 
agitated voice as best he could. 
Yes, he remembered the Alice 
Corbett case! He had handled 
it. It had happened twenty-six 
months before, on Friday, No- 
vemt)cr 13th, 1925. However, he 
was sure that this was nothing 
serious. Probably the girl had 
slipped away (or some engage- 
ment and been detained. lie was 
sure there was nothing wrong. 
Yes, he was leaving the office 
immediately. 

Lieutenant Daly replaced the 
telephone receiver upon the hook. 
As he reached for his hat and 
coat, his eyes alighted upon a 
calendar hanging on the wall. 
For the* first time, although not 
superstitious, a wave of dread 
misgiving swept over him. It was 
not the first case he had handled 

in which Fate had dealt him cards from a stacked deck. 

To-day was Saturday. The day previous — the day Frances 
St. John Smith disappeared — had been Friday, the 13th! 

After a short conference with me over the long-distance 
telephone and still another conference with President William 
Allan Neilson of Smith College upon his return to the city, 
State Detective Daly was ready to commence his investiga- 
tion, first making sure that the parents of the girl at their 
. New York home had been notified of the disappearance. 

1 )uring the first few hours after the facts in the case became 
known to the college authorities, it was considered probable 
that the missing girl had gone to her parents' summer home 
at Amherst, Massachusetts. The college authorities im- 




mediately got in touch with the caretaker, but a thorough 
search of the buildings and grounds revealed no trace of her. 

Except for the fact that Alice Corbett had left a brief note 
of farewell to her mother, the cases were very similar, even to 
the day of disappearance, although Alice had disappeared in 
November. The college called in Gordon L. Willis of the 
Hampshire County Trust Company to assist Daly in the case, 
just as they had done during the Corbett case. 

As soon as he could, Daly made a careful search of the girl's 
room. It was seemingly in perfect order, giving the impression 
that everything had been put carefully away 
before the girl had left for her unknown destina- 
tion. A box of oranges explained the aromatic 
scent. The bed had been made up. The papers 
and books on her desk had been carefully ar- 
ranged. The clothing in the closet was in good 
order. There was no appear- 
ance of haste. Several pairs 
of rubbers, overshoes and 
shoes, with enclosed protect- 
ing trees, were lined up side by 
side in the rear of the closet. 

Frances had left without 
taking any money. Seven 
dollars in hills and silver were 
found on her bureau. No 
checks had been drawn re- 
cently on the local bank, 
which held a balance of $700. 
She had apparently taken no 
change of clothing, and two 
vanity boxes, or compacts, 
were found lying on the 
bureau. 

Of this last-named feature. 
Lieutenant Daly took particular 
note. 

It was a cold day — the air 
was damp and raw; yet the 
girl's expensive fur coat was 
hanging in the closet. As far 
as the detective could learn, 
the last time this girl with 
reddish-brown hair had been 
seen, she was wearing an 
orange-flame-colored jersey 
dress with tan collar and 
cuffs, terra-cotta-colored coat 
with a brown skunk fur col- 
lar, tan stockings, low tan 
shoes and probably no hat. 



IFkolo by Blackinton, Boston] 

St. John Smith, New York millionaire business man, 
father of the missing girl. He used every available 
means of wealth and influence, and spent a fortune, 
in his efforts to locate his daughter 



THESE facts were broad- 
cast to the world by the 
newspapers, the radio and by 
hand-bill, including the fact 
that a thousand-dollar re- 
ward was offered by Mr. and 
Mrs. St. John Smith, who 
arrived in Northampton eaily 
Sunday morning and took a 
suite at the iNorthampton Hotel. 

Nobody could offer Lieutenant Daly any reason for the 
disappearance. Although certain officials feared the girl had 
committed suicide l>ecause of despondency over the fact that 
she was behind in her studies, this theory was weakened by 
the discovery that her marks had improved even in the short 
time since her return to college after the holidays. 

"The girl had no love affair," President Neilson stated 
emphatically. "She was in fairly good standing in her . 
studies. I find no conceivable reason for her voluntary 
disappearance." 

Being a bicycle enthusiast, it was thought at first that she 
might have gone for a spin and been injured' in some way. 



The Strange Case of Frances St. John Smith 



21 




However, her bicycle was found at the 
parking quarters in the basement of 
Dewey Hall, and a further check-up re- 
vealed the fact that no bicycles were miss- 
ing. Mr. and Mrs. St. John Smith feared 
that their daughter might have met with 
a serious accident while walking in the 
woods. Some time before, it became 
known, she had injured her knee, and a 
fall might have rendered her helpless. 
Lieutentant Daly said nothing, but 
quietly made the rounds of the Northamp- 
ton drug stores to make sure that no sale 
of poison had been made to anyone 
answering the description of Frances St. 
John Smith. 

lyfEANVVHiLE other vigorous efforts 
A were being made to locate the miss- 
ing girl. State troopers, local police, boy 
scouts and volunteer workers were search- 
ing every inch of the territory near Smith 
College. Several hundred boy scouts of 
other troops were searching the Mount 
Tom and Mount Holyoke ranges as well 
as the surrounding country. Reward 
posters flashed forth from post-offices and 
court-house bulletin boards, from fences 
and posts. 

At Smith, the college authorities were 
making a thorough search of their own 
grounds. They ordered Paradise Pond 
drained and its channel dragged, to- 
gether with a part of the Connecticut 
River. 

• "During the forty-two years that 

IPkolo by Blackinton, BoiUm] 




[Pkolo by Bill O'Connor] 

Members of that fine body of men, the Massachusetts State Police, discuss- 




T6L- 



, ****** 




r 



on the Frances St. John Smith case 
P. Mahoney (holding the paper) is in 
are (left to right) Francis O'Brien, Harold Dineen, and 
n. The temperature was hovering near zero when this 
picture was taken 

I've been superintendent of Smith College," said Super- 
intendent Franklin King to newspaper men after he and 
his assistant had lifted the sluice gate on 'the lower end of 
Paradise Pond, causing the water to pour through with a 
gurgling roar, "there have been only five disappearances here 
at the college, despite the fact that twenty-five hundred girls 
attend this college from all over the world. All of these 
have been cleared up except the Alice Corbett case that 
occurred three years ago." 

The reporters stood by silently watching as the ice out in 
the center of the lake commenced to collapse with ghostly, 
tingling crashes. No body was found when the 4>ond was 
drained. 

T ATER that same Sunday afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. George 
B. Ward, an attorney and his wife, left Deerfield, Mas- 
sachusetts, a city some twelve miles north of Northampton, on 
their return home to Bristol, Connecticut. Earlier in the day 
they had motored there to leave their boy, William, a student 
at the Deerfield Academy. 

Just ahead of them on the side of the road a quarter of a 
mile or so from Deerfield, was a girl with drooping shoulders, 
plodding toward Greenfield. She looked up as the automobile 
approached; an attractive girl with reddish-brown hair, 
wearing a terra cotta coat with a fur collar. The Wards 
instinctively slowed up. 

"Excuse me," commenced the girl, "but are you looking 
for me?" 

"Why, no," said Ward, glancing at his 
wife with a surprised expression. "Why 
should I be?" 

For a brief instant the girl straightened 
her tired shoulders, and the vacant look 
left her eyes. The instant passed, however; 
her mind changed, and she became her 
former listless, tired self. > 



(Left) Photo- 
graph of the first 
appeal sent out 
through the news- 
papers by the 
mother of Frances 
St. John Smith, in 
her effort to com- 



22 



True Detective Mysteries 



"No reason," she replied apologetically. "Never mind!" 

She commenced walking away from them. Ward started 
to call her back, then hesitated. After all, it was none of his 
business. He stepped on his accelerator and the car speeded 
up toward Connecticut. 

A backward glance showed the tired figure still plodding 
toward Greenfield. 

"Mark my word, there's some mystery about that girl," he 
remarked to his wife as he settled comfortably back in his 
seat for the remainder of the journey. 
"I'm going to call the police!" 



FRANCES ST. JOHN SMITH had been 
1 found! 

Such was the welcome news that 
swiftly spread in Northampton a few 
hours later, following receipt of a message 
telephoned by George B. Ward of Bristol 
to the Northampton police. A searching 
party was hurriedly dispatched to Deer- 
field, Massachusetts, where Ward had 
encountered "Miss Smith" the day before, 
walking in the direction of Greenfield. 

But nothing developed from the clue, 
although the town was closely searched 
and State troopers were instructed to be 
upon the lookout for her in that locality. 

{Right) This shows a copy of the first 
reward circular. Later the reward was in- 
creased to $10,000 

(Below) Three of the principals in the 
nation-wide search for Frances St. John 
Smith. (Laft) Lieut. Daly, in active 
charge for the Massachusetts State Police: 
(center) Major Thomas J. Hammond, 
personal representative of the Smith 
family; (right) Doctor William Allan 
Neilson, president of Smith College 

./'*•«.. by Boston Foil) 



$1,000 REWARD 

Missing Smith College Student 





Frances St. John Smith 




Another rumor now spread that Frances St. John Smith had 
taken her life because it was thought that she was losing the 
friendship of her most intimate friend — Joy Kimball. This 
rumor was vigorously denied by Miss Kimball. While the 
search was covering every possible hiding-place, including the 
cellars, attics and closets of the college buildings, all sorts and 
kinds of information were coming in to us from all over the 
country. It seemed as though almost every good-looking girl 
in a terra cotta coat had been mistaken for the missing 

student. "Frances 
St. John Smith" 
had been "seen" in 
Portland and San- 
ford, Maine; in 
Middletown, Bris- 
tol and Thomp- 
son ville, Connecti- 
cut; in Williams- 
town, Boston, 
Westhampton 
and a score of 
other places. Be- 
fore the case was 
closed, she was 
destined to be 
seen in almost 
every section of 
the United States 
and parts of 
Europe, and to 
engage the atten- 
tion of . almost 
every police and 
detective organi- 
zation in the 
country. 

Frankly, we 
were baffled, for 
as yet we really 
had not had 
time to assemble 
ou r clues and 
track them down in orderly fashion, so quickly 
had they come in. 

From Hatfield had come a particularly hot 
tip that seemed almost positive. A Mrs. Ros- 
well Billings had identified a "Miss Smith" who 
knocked at her door on Saturday, January 14th, 
and asked for the Sophia Smith homestead, the 
home of the founder of Smith College and no>v 
a tea-room frequented by Smith students. 
Lieutenant Daly had men proceed at once to the 
neighborhood, but no further information could 
be obtained, and this lead had to be dropped. 

A CTING on orders from Alvan T. Fuller, then 
Governor of Massachusetts, I now assumed 
personal charge of the search and hurried to 
Northampton, where, following instructions, I 
placed the entire resources of the Massachusetts 
State Police at the disposal of Mr. and Mrs. 
Smith. In addition to ordering as many State 
• troopers to proceed to Northampton as practical, 
I had also called in as many State detectives as 
could be spared from other active cases. 

A special search was instituted at once 
through the grounds of the State hospital for 
the insane, situated on a slight slope overlooking 
Paradise Pond bordering the campus. Person- 
ally, I didn't consider that this search would 
yield results, but such grave fears had been ex- 
pressed that the girl had been murdered and 
her body hidden by some one of the 1,200 in- 
mates, that I thought it best that this angle of 



A Freahraan at Smith CAp draee.|»ared Friday, Wi, 13. 192S- A* no 
can be found for bar !■...„:. it u thought ,h, ma, hare „„i .,th en *.rrid..l TV 
,iH'. (.Ik.,. SL John Smith, offer, .hoy. reward for information leading lo the nndin, 

cd-heC-H. 

Slu is described as .follows: 

18 yaer. old, 5 feet 5 inche. high, 130 tba. Light brown hair running to reddrab. blur- 
.ray eyea. bid on an orange flame Jereey titer, with tan collar and cuffe, Ian aboaa and 
tan rtockioea. and a terra cotta ( red 1 coat with brown fur collar. On the fourth fin- 
ger of the ngbtaband ah. wore a atrial I ring with black enamel rue 



JOSEPH V. DALY. Sut, Dwuctie. 
Or SMITH COLLEGE 



[Photo by Blackinlon, Boston] 



The Strange Case of Frances St. John Smith 



the case be cleared up at once. Under the direction of Lieuten- 
ant James P. Mahoney of the Leeds barracks, State troopers, 
cooperating with other police and volunteer workers, were 
ordered to make the search, with the results that I anticipated. 

Personally, I felt very sorry for both Mr. and Mrs. St. John 
Smith, who, though desperately worried, bore up nobly under 
the severe strain. I promised them my absolute cooperation, 
and agreed not to hold back any important information. 
Both of them were sure that their daughter was alive; both 
were agreed that 
she had amnesia 
and that her return 
was only a matter 
of days. 

Clues continued 
to pour in upon us 
as before, but not 
one had any real 
value. Then Lieu- 
tenant Daly sought 
me out. I knew 
that he had some 
important informa- 
tion from the ex- 
pression on his face. 

"The first real, 
definite clue we've 
gotten since I've 
been on the case," 
he said, handing 
me a small, torn 
scrap of paper. 

I glanced at it, 
and then straight- 
ened instinctively. 
Daly had spoken 
the truth. 

In my hands I 
held a fragment of a 
message penned by 
the missing girl. 

" '/ would give everything in the world ' " I read. 

"There's more on the other side, General!" Daly said. 

I turned the slip of paper over. 

" 'Forgive me ' "it read. 

What had Daly stumbled upon? 

F DON'T know just how long I stood there silently 

holding in my hand that piece of paper containing 
those cryptic messages. What did they portend? What 
was their true meaning, and why were they penned by 
an eighteen-year-old youngster who had everything her 
heart desired, with all the money she wanted at her com- 
mand? For what would she "give all the world"? To 
whom did she feel it necessary to write "forgive me"? 
Perhaps the statement that there was no love affair 
would be knocked into a cocked hat ! The case was more 
interesting and more mysterious with every new 
development. 

"Where did you get this?" I asked. 

"Tucked inside her waste-basket in such a way that it 
was overlooked until now," he told me. 

"Are you sure it's her handwriting?" 

"Positive, General. Both her father and mother have 
identified it." 

If all this was as stated, Daly had stumbled upon a very 
important clue — a clue whose usefulness might become 
greatly impaired if its discovery became known. Daly must 
have read the expression on my face. 

"The newspapers aren't wise," he said, "and there's 
no reason why they should be tipped off until it's neces- 
sary." 

Daly seated himself in an easy chair, lighted a cigar, 
settled back in his chair and looked over at me. There 




23 

was grim determination written upon his stern fea- 
tures. 

"It certainly is some case, General," he commenced. "It's 
more and more mysterious with every twist and turn ! There's 
nothing to work on, not even as much as there was in the 
Corbett case; and yet it seems so damned ridiculous to think 
that a girl living in the twentieth century could walk 
out of a dormitory even in the dead of night and leave 
no trace. Then when you realize it's the second time it's 



■"George, we've got 
aomething!"shout- 
ed Bill McDonald 
(left, below) as he 
and George John- 
son (right, below), 
employees of the 
Chapman, Scott, 
Merritt Company, 
were dragging the 
Connecticut River, 
near Longmeadow 
(twenty miles be- 
low Northampton) 
for a dead comrade, 
drowned the day 
previous. Feverish- 
ly pulling up their 
grappling hooks, 
they found they did 
have a dead body 
— but, it wasn' t 
the one they 
were looking for.' 
They were dum- 
founded to find they 
had brought to the 
surface the almost 
nude body of a girl. 
The man in the 
picture at the left 
is pointing to the 
submerged branch 
of a sunken tree 
that yielded up the 
grim secret from its 
bosom of slime 




happened — well, you just don't know what to make of it! 

"I haven't yet been able to fathom out any motive, but 
something was wrong. Frances St. John Smith never wanted 
to return to college. This dread something that seemed to 
mean more than anything else stood in the way, a something 
of which neither the college authorities nor her parents were 
aware; a secret which seemed to be shared only by her chum 
and intimate, Joy Kimball. When college reopened its doors 
on January fourth, Frances Smith returned to college, but 
she refused to unpack her trunks and grips. 

" 'When her bags and trunks came up from the station, 



24 



True Detective Mysteries 



she stood there as though she did not know what to do with 
them,' Miss Kimball told me during an interview. 'I made 
her open her trunks, and helped her to take out her clothes 
hours later.' That, General, reflects the mind of that young- 
ster, who didn't want to come back here to Northampton and 
whose attitude unconsciously reflected that mental state." 
Daly paused. "Nine days later she disappeared. 

"I've been trying to get definite information concerning the 
movements of Miss Smith before she disappeared. It's been 
one tough job. The last positive evidence of the girl being 
seen alive was on Thursday afternoon, January twelfth, be- 
tween three and three-thirty. During that time Joy Kimball 
went to Frances St. John Smith's room, and the two girls had 
a long talk, chiefly about college and class-room affairs. 

"Three maids think that they saw her at break- 
fast on the morning of Friday the thirteenth, but I 
am sure they are mistaken. Two of her classmates 
who roomed just across the small hallway from Miss 
Smith claim that they heard somebody they thought 
to be Frances go into her room on Friday 
night about eight o'clock and close the 
door. While, of course, I cannot definitely 
say that these people are mistaken, I am 
practically certain that they are. In my 
mind, Frances St. John Smith dis- 
appeared during ,the late evening of Jan- 
uary twelfth or else during the early 
morning of January thirteenth." 

"Y F - S ?" I sa«d, and waited. 

"During the night of January 
twelfth and the morning of January 
thirteenth it rained and blew hard," 
Daly continued. "Wherever windows 
had been left open it rained in, and 
caused damage throughout the city. 
When Joy Kimball entered Frances St. 
John Smith's room the next morning, she 
found the window by the fire-escape 
open. Vet there was no dampness 
upon the window sill, and there were 
no apparent traces of any pool of rain- 
water forming under the window during 
the night. 

"In other words, General," 
said Daly, leaning forward earn- 
estly, "Frances St. John Smith 
was in her room until after the 
rain had stopped. Then, open- 
ing the window leading out to 
the fire-escape, she slipped out- 
side, eliminating all chances of 
wakening the dormitory, and 
walked down the fire-escape . . . 
to her death." 

"To her death!" I exclaimed. 
"Why to her death?" 

"Surely you're of the same 
mind," Daly returned. 

"Frances St. John Smith was 
the hothouse-bred type of girl 
who could not walk a city block 
without the aid of her powder 
puff and compact. Yet that 
night when she snapped off the 
light and opened the window, she 
left behind on her bureau two 
powder puffs and compacts!" 

"But her motive!" I snapped. "What was her motive?" 

"I'm not quite sure," he confessed. "I believe the answer, 
or partial answer, at least, is contained in the letter she tore 
up — a piece of which you hold in your hand — a letter which 
I expect to have in my possession l)efore many hours pass." 

He did not tell me, and I did not tell him that I was aware, 




that the search for those missing fragments seemed much more 
futile than the search for the proverbial needle in the hay- 
stack. Even if the letter had not been completely destroyed, 
the shreds were buried deep and probably scattered among 
millions of other shreds of paper compressed into several tons 
of paper gathered from the waste-baskets and rooms of all 
the students and thrown into the bins of the basement at 
Dewey House. 

'TMME passed. 

Although Lieutenant Daly, in conjunction with Lieu- 
tenant Mahoney, was busily engaged in searching the near-by 
territory for the missing girl, as well as running down worthless 
clues, he was also finding time to search through the paper bin 
for the missing pieces of the letter, the dis- 
jointed phrases of which had stimulated our 
curiosity and led us to expect that the compbte 
letter might tend to throw some light on what 
now seemed to be an impenetrable mystery. 

From her elaborate suite in the Northampton 
Hotel, Mrs. St. John Smith penned the follow- 
ing appeal: 

January iq, IQ28 



Frances St. John Smith 
Frances, my darling. 

Please come to father and me or send 
word to us here at the Hotel Northampton, 
or if it is nearer and easier, to Miss Hamil- 
ton and Nannan at I2Q. 

We long so for the happiness of having 
you back and we need you and miss you 



Dearest love. 



Mother 



Joy Kimball, daughter of a prominent Milton 
(Mass.) physician, who, as far as is known, was 
the last one to see Frances St. John Smith alive, 
and was said to be her only intimate. This 
photograph was taken as she was leaving a con- 
ference of officials of the Massachusetts State 
Police 



This was photographed by camera men. and 
the appeal appeared in representative news- 
papers all over the United States. St. John 
Smith boosted the reward from $1,000 to 
$10,000. And still no definite in- 
formation. 

Letters continued to pour in to 
us from all over the country. 
Everyone seemed to be search- 
ing for the missing Miss Smith. 
Many false leads were innocently 
given and much valuable time was 
wasted, owing to the fact that 
Miss Smith had a face of the com- 
posite type that might easily be 
confused. Every letter in five 
seemed to come from either 
cranks or persons with disordered 
minds who threatened the un- 
fortunate parents with hints of 
all sorts of dire possibilities if 
they did not live up to the con- 
ditions specified in the various 
letters. 

These letters were not of much 
value, in my opinion. I felt sure 
that the girl was not being held 
for ransom, and. living or dead, 
I was certain the girl was some- 
where within the radius of twenty 
or thirty miles of Northampton. 
Under the joint commands of Lieutenant Daly and Lieutenant 
Mahoney, another search was planned of all the territory. 
This time, after being divided into details, the men were to 
work out from the city in circles, giving all woods, hills, under- 
brush and streams a thorough going-over. As patrolmen and 
mounted troopers redoubled their (Continued on page 114) 





I 

the Infamous 
GREENWALDT MYS 



By District Attorney Herman R. Salen 
As told to A. JVL Thompson 





(Right) Here is Green- 
waldt (left foreground) 
standing with bared head 
at his wife's grave, con- 
soling the heart-broken 
parents of the little 
woman who lay before 
them in her coffin — 
foully murdered. By 
whose hand? Could 
her murderer be the man 
standing there with his 
protecting arm about 
her own mother? It 
seems beyond all human 
belief — yet, note his 
drawn, haggard features! 
(Above) District At- 
torney Salen, with his 
eyes fixed on Green- 
waldt — exactly as he 
had them fixed on him 
watching his every 
move and reaction at 
the moment thephoto 
a t the righ t was taken! 




"I'm a damn good choker. " In these heartless words the 
inhuman wretch who strangled this innocent little woman, 
described his fitness for the job! Was there ever before a 

crime quite like this? 



THIS baffling mystery was the most-talked-of murder case in the 
crime annals of Wisconsin. It is here told by the man who 
had direct charge of it and is one of the best and clearest accounts 
ever to appear in this magazine, not only of detective work that re- 
quired the shrewdest kind of thinking and cautious action on the 
part of District Attorney Salen— but, also, as a study of the mind 
processes of a heartless murderer. 

In last month's issue was laid how Greenwaldl staggered to Tad's 
Tavern at midnight, bruised and disheveled, and related in gasps the 
ghastly story of a vicious night attack upon his wife and himself— 
his wife then lying dead on the roadway. 

Clue after clue was run down — -all ending in blind trails. The 
mystery deepened. Greenwaldt was heartbroken. He would help 
find the murderer! He was, according to Greenwaldt, a "dark, 
chunky fellow. 

Meanwhile a question, a theory, had risen in District Attorney 



Salen's mind. It gripped him. He worked on it night and day. 
A great light began to dawn on this dark mystery. Was it possible 
Greenwaldt himself was the murderer. . . . ? 

District Attorney Salen continues the story: 

Part Two — Conclusion 

A HALF-HOUR or so after my telephone conversation 
with Doctor Miloslavich, Greenwaldt entered my 
office. I might mention here that Greenwaldt 
wasn't being held on any charges. Since we had 
nothing to hold him on, I had merely asked him to remain 
in town to give us what aid he could in clearing up this 
mvstery. He had the privilege of staying in a hotel in town, 

25 



26 



True Detective Mysteries 




Note this man's long, powerful hands. When you have finished this 
story you will want to look him over carefully — Arthur Richard Betzold, 
alias Art Kelly 



or he could have had quarters in the jail. He was 
free to do just as he wished. 

After chatting about the crime for a few minutes, 
I said: 

"You were pretty weak when you came 'to,' 
in the field after the hold-up, weren't you? You 
didn't have strength to stand up immediately 
after coming to your senses, did you?" 

"I should say I was weak! Why, I crawled on 
my hands and knees half-way to Tad's." 

I purposely let my eyes drop to his knees, and 
stared at them. When I looked up quickly, he 
flushed a little and then looked down at his knees 
himself. I turned away without a word and began 
to fumble with some papers on my desk. I was 
satisfied that I had startled him. His actions 
showed plainly that he realized he had made a slip. 

Right at that moment a feeling that he was guilty 
Possessed me, and I couldn't shake it off. When 
I was alone again I went over my notes, and I 
was more firmly convinced than ever. Doctor 
Miloslavich had said that the wound Green- 
waldt's "assailants" had inflicted on him wasn't 
severe enough to cause him to lose consciousness 
for as long a time as he claimed. This fitted 
perfectly with my impression that he had been 
holding back when he tried to convince us that 
he had been unconscious for an hour and a half. 

T HELD to that conviction even after weighing 
other factors, that seemed to make it impossible 
for him to have committed the crime. There 
were any number of perplexing items still in the 
way. Just how long had he lx;en unconscious, 
for instance, and where had he been the rest of 
the hour and a half? Again, there were the car 
and the telephone call in town at 12:30. and we 
knew he was at Tacl's Tavern at 12:30. His 
wife had' died between 11 and 11:30 P. M., and 
she was found twelve miles from Tacl's Tavern. 

If he were guilty, there could be only one ex- 
planation: he had had an accomplice. Still, 
Tom Layden, the last person to see the Green- 
waldts, had stated positively that they were alone 
in the car when it left Milwaukee. Then he must 
have picked up someone en route, because neither 
Greenwaldt nor any other mortal could be in 
three places at once. 

I came to the conclusion that Greenwaldt alone 
held the key to the puzzle. If he would only 
talk! How to get it out of him was the next 
problem. 

My daily contact with him gave me an oppor- 
tunity to size up his nature, and I realized that 
ordinary third degree methods would only make 
him tighten up more than ever. I knew that he 
would be stubborn, to death even, if we got 
rough and tried to browbeat him into confessing. 
If I wanted to get anything out of him, I would 
have to handle him with kid gloves. 

I decided that by showing sympathy for him 
and not letting him know that I suspected him, 
I might gain his confidence so that he would 
confess in time. If he were guilty, I reasoned, 
the burden on his' soul must be terrific. Kind 
treatment and his own stricken conscience might 
break down that barrier of silence, if he really did 
have anything to tell. 

During a previous questioning, he had admitted 
being in Milwaukee the Saturday l>efore the 
murder on a business trip. (Let me say here, 
incidentally, that every man on the Milwaukee 
Police Department was bending every effort 
toward solving this case, hoping thereby to unearth 




How I Solved the Infamous Greenwaldt Mystery 

] □ 



T_I KRE is presented a vivid picture of the conflict be 
tween the good and the bad in Greenwaldt, front 
and side views of whom appear at the right. Follow, on 
the map, the twisted course he" took in his car through the 
streets of Milwaukee, starting from the bus station on 6th 
Street, marked by circle, south to Michigan, west to 7th, 
north to Wisconsin, west to Hth, where he should have 
turned south but lost his nerve. So he kept on to 12th, 
regained his nerve there, turned north to Wells, east to 
11th, south to Michigan and now he was on his way, 
with his faithful wife beside him, to fulfil one of 
the cruelest missions that any man ever undertook! 
At the comer of Michigan and 13th, at a dark spot near 
the curb (marked by cross), strangler Kelly is awaiting 
him. Kelly gets in the car, they turn south to Clybourn, 
west to 27th, south to National Ave. and the die is 
cast. Of this man Kelly, now seated with sinister pur- 
pose beside the unsuspecting wife of Greenwaldt, the 
veteran Chief of Detectives Harry McCrory of the Mil 
waukee police, said: "He sure is a tough bird.' In 
all my years in police work, I've never seen anyone 
so downright brutal, callous, cold-blooded and 
cruel. I've been in contact with the worst fiends 
in the country, but none of them equal Kelly." 
What chance had this defenseless woman now? . . . Green - 
waldt's green Stutz coupe, in which the horrible death 
ride was taken, is shown below 





^ qpn 

3 arao 

□ p □ n o 



a clue to the Lillian Graef murder. Chief I-aul>enheimer 
had supplemented his regular detective force with fifty 
patrolmen who were taken from their beats and put in plain 
clothes.) 

Upon investigating this business trip of (ireenwaldt's, 
the Milwaukee detectives discovered that he had spenl the 
night in a Milwaukee hotel with a young girl from Milton, 
Wisconsin. It was the first time we knew he had ever 
violated his nuptial vows. Everyone who knew him had 
held him up as a model of rectitude. 

However, we saw a possibility of a triangle as a result of 
which Greenwaldt, tired of his wife, might have disposed of 
her to make way for the other. Sergeant Dieden . decided 
to question him on that point. With Sheriff Redford, he 



mMMMMMmMaaMMK 

was closeted with Greenwaldt. Before Greenwaldt arrived, 
however, I told them to go after him hammer and tongs. 
It was my belief that if they treated him rough he would 
come to me for sympathy; and, naturally, I would have lot's 
of it. 

After considerable questioning. Sergeant Dieden won an 
admission from him of his lapse of Saturday night. 

"Then you have been lying to us?" demanded Sheriff 
Redford. 

"Sure, I've been lying. I lied about some things, but I 
told the truth about what happened to me and my wife!" 
Greenwaldt replied. 

Of course there was nothing, necessarily, in that to hold 
against him. A married man would (Continued on page So) 




"When I got over that first nervousness 
it seemed easy, and thrilling, too — espe- 
cially when I held a gun myself!" said the 
Tiger Girl, shown above. But little did she 
realize the end of that path of 1 
violence! 



BOBBED-HAIRKD, iron-nerved, with a laugh that 
"showed dimples in both cheeks" (as the subsequent 
police bulletin described her), the "Tiger Girl" of Los 
Angeles — known also at the height of her hectic 
career of outlawry as Los Angeles' "Bandit Queen of 1927" — 
pulled off her first two hold-ups in one day, with all the 
swiftness and ease that marked her later escapades. 

She walked into a west side drug store at 1 1 P. M. with her 
male confederate, snapped open her black patent-leather 
purse, whipped out an automatic, and held it pointed at the 
four stunned customers in the store while her fellow bandit 
swiftly went through the victims' pockets and the cash- 
register. She held her purse in her left hand, the muzzle of 
the gun resting on the top edge of the purse and pointed 
steadily at her victims, throughout the entire operation. 

A few hours before, the same pair, with a second male 
confederate, had "taken" a Standard Oil station at the corner 
of Ardmore and Wilshire Boulevard. This time the man 
held the gun, covering the station attendants, while the 
Tiger Girl calmly scooped up the contents of the cash- 
register. 

hacking out of the station, her gallant accomplice held the 
girl between himself and the station attendants until they were 
safely outside! 

Kyes, blazing over the muzzle of her gun, were what her 
victims most vividly recalled afterward. "Like a tiger's!" 
they said. 

The date of these hold-ups was September 4th, 1927. 

Such was the beginning of a dizzy orgy of robbery that 
was to last some five weeks — weeks that, for excitement and 
sensational exploits, will long be remembered by officers 
serving on the Cent 

28 



Stalking 



"Time and again we talked of killing 
him! . . . It had to be him — or us!" As 
these tense words burst from the "Tiger 
Girl" of Los Angeles, she broke down and 
wept bitterly. She had told of the begin- 
ning of the tragic end! 

By Detective Lieutenant 
A. W. Doyle 

Los Angeles Police Department 
As told to DOLORES DELGADO 



A night or two following the opening double-header, three 
more oil stations were robbed by the bobbed-haired bandit, 
her original confederate, and the third man, described as 
resembling the other strongly enough to be his brother. 

My partner, Detective Lieutenant B. L. Jones, and I were 
regularly assigned to the investigation of oil station robberies. 
And at this juncture. Captain L. L. Curtis, at that time com- 
manding the Robbery Squad, called us into conference and 
strongly emphasized the necessity of nipping in the bud 
what was evidently a bandit "drive" against gas stations. 

A special emergency squad was organized. Plain-clothes 
men were placed on stake at numerous oil stations located at 
strategic points. A fleet of small cars, manned with men 
armed with sawed-off shotguns, |>atrolled the streets in quest 
of the bold little bandit "mob." 

But as though the marauders had been tipped off, or had 
telepathic knowledge of our plans, no oil stations were dis- 
turbed during the following week. Instead, several drug 
stores, a big grocery' store, and a theatrical man carrying a 



large sum of money were robbed in swift succession. Loot 
to the amount of several thousand dollars was taken. On 
some hold-ups, the girl wielded the gun. In other instances, 
it was she who coolly stripped diamond rings from the hands 
of women victims, while her accomplices kept them covered. 

FORTUNE continued on the side of the outlaws. In 
• every instance, they escaped from the scene of the crime, 
leaving no clue to their identity, and making their getaway, 
apparently, in a car parked somewhere in the neighborhood. 
For a time no cars were seen, and of course no license numbers 
obtained. 

With the attention of the trio seemingly turned to drug 
stores, these places were staked. Hardly had we taken this 
measure when the campaign against oil stations was resumed. 
We continued to play out of luck. More than once a robbery 
was pulled while our plain-clothes patrol, all unknowing, 
was within a block or two of the scene of the crime. 

Newspapers began to play up the daring exploits of the 
Tiger Girl in lurid head-lines. Caustic comment appeared 
upon the seeming helplessness of the police against the "mob" 
that now had the west side terrorized. The usually genial 
face of our, young commander took on a harried look, as the 
daring and elusive trio continued to lead us a merry chase, 
always — by sheer good luck or an almost infernal clever- 



"Tiger GirV\i Los Angeles 




"When we got her up to the apartment, Jack called me into another room, drew his gun and said: '// you don't talk to that 
girl and make her come in on this . . . you know what this means!'— and he leveled his gun at my heart." In these 
words did the Tiger Girl (above, on the left) describe how her friend, Johnnie Green (right), was lured into the spider's web of 
a cruel fate that threatened her very life. Then she added tearfully: "God knows I'm sorry for her! Afterward, when 
she told me she was married and had a kid, it broke me up!" 



ness — at least one lap ahead of the forces of the law! 

And the worst was yet to come! Shortly after closing time 
on the night of September 19th, the box office of the Uptown 
Theater, on Western Avenue, was held up by the three, and 
approximately S700 taken from the manager at the point of 
a gun. And the mob chose to round out the evening, shortly 
after midnight, by merrily sticking up a West Adams Street 
lunch room, where they relieved cashier and patrons of $166! 







N September 20th, Captain Curtis issued the following 
special bulletin, containing the best possible description 
of the bandit trio, gleaned from the now numerous reports of 
victims and eye-witnesses in headquarters files: 



Arrest for Robbery!!! 

The girl bandit and her two confederates oper- 
ated again last night, holding up the Uptown 
Theater, 10th and Western Avenue. 

The woman is described as: 

American, 21-23 years, 5 feet, 5 inches tall, me- 
dium build, blue eyes, dark brown hair. Well- 
shaped legs; very attractive-looking. When laugh- 
ing, shows dimples in both cheeks. Small gold 




fillings in upper front teeth. Bobbed, curly hair. 

Wears black coat, with gray fur collar, black 
slippers and hose, tight-fitting black silk hat with 
rhinestone ornament in front. Black velvet dress 
trimmed with red, rhinestone design on front of 
skirt. Black kid gloves with white trimming. 
Carries black patent-leather, purse, containing a 
small automatic. When operating, opens purse 
gun with muzzle pointing over edge of 



Description of male bandits: 
No. 1. American (looks like Italian); 25 years; 
5 feet, 7 inches; 135 pounds. Dark complexion, 
dark eyes, wavy black hair; smooth-shaven, low 
side-burns. Wears reddish-brown plaid suit, gray 
felt hat, pulled low in front. Always carried gun 
in left coat pocket, with hand on same. Wears 
gray kid gloves. 

No. 2. Same age and general appearance as No. 1. 
Looks enough like him to be his brother. Dressed 
about the same. Tan kid gloves. 

No. 1 usually assists woman on jobs, while No. 2 
stays in car, usually parked on side street or in 

of hold-up. All 

29 



30 



True Detective Mysteries 



three carry blue-steel auto- 
matic pistols ready for use. 

Information for Captain L. 
L. Curtis, or 
Detective Lieu- 
tenants A. W. 
Doyle or B. L. 
Jones, Robbery 
Detail, Central 
Headquarters. 

UOR two nights 
* after this, while 
our entire force was 
on the alert, there 
was a disconcert- 
ing suspension of 
all robbery activi- 
ties. Then on one 
night, two drug 
stores, a cafe, and 
the occupants of a 
parked automobile 
fell victims to the 
predatory trio, 
yielding up a con- 
siderable sum in 
money and several 
valuable diamond 
rings. 

Our bandits evi- 
dently decided to 
make September 
23rd a gala night- 
First, the parked 
car and the drug 
"taken," followed, at 
by the most spectacular of all the 
bandit raids. The fashionable La- 
fayette Cafe was boldly invaded, 




and guests relieved of money and 
jewelry. This occasion, inciden- 
tally, was marked by thed6butof 
a new member of 
the mob — a slen- 
der, dark-eyed 
young woman, who 
was posted at the 
main entrance as 
a lookout. The 
business of collect- 
ing cash and valu- 
ables from the vic- 
tims having been 
completed with 
smoothness and 
dispatch, the trio 
backed to the door- 
way with drawn 
guns. All four then 
fled to a waiting 
car and drove away 
at high speed. 

IT was on the fol- 
lowing day that 
we obtained our 
first clue to the 
identity of the 
Tiger Girl. Detec- 
tive Jones and I 
were making ar- 
rangements with 
the proprietor of a south side drug 
store to stake his establishment. In- 
cidentally, we showed him the special 
police bulletin. The druggist declared 
that the description of the girl bandit 
answered that of a young woman who 
had been a frequent customer in his 




(Above) Close-up of the pretty 21 -year-old Johnnie Green. Referring to 
her friends, she said: "They offered one plenty of fun and excitement 
if I would go in with them." She did — and as a result is now serving 
a term of 14 years to life in San Quentin Penitentiary! (Lower left) "Want 
a ride?" . . . "Sure!" . . . "Get right in, kid," . . . and as the dark-eyed 
girl (Johnnie Green) flashed another alluring smile, David Judkins unhesitat- 
ingly took a seat beside her. . . . Thus began the brief acquaintance that 
was destined to end so tragically — 14 years to life in San Quentin for Jud- 
kins! The driver of the car on that occasion, Al Whizen (lower right) is 
now serving 21 years to life in the same place! Johnnie Green (left) is 
there, and the Tiger Girl (right) also was sent to the same prison for 21 
years to life — all of them hardly more than kids. Thus does reckless youth 
pay the terrible penalty for "a little easy money and a thrill" 





Stalking the "Tiger Girl" of Los Angeles 



31 



store, up until a few months before 

He had known her as "Betty 
Berry man." 

He gave us the address 
where she had lived, and 
we hastened to the place. 
There it developed that 
"Betty Berryman" 
had moved recently, 
leaving no forward- 
ing address. How- 
ever, among some 
trifles aban- 
doned on a shelf 
in the apart- 
ment she had 
vacated, we 
found two 



as Al Whizen, of 2433 Malabar Street, 
Los Angeles. Papers had not yet 
been transferred to the new 
owner. 

We promptly repaired 
to 2433 Malabar Street, 
which proved to be 
a modest cottage on 
the east side of the 
city, occupied by 
Mr. and Mrs. 
Whizen, an 
elderly couple 
enjoying an 
excellent 
repH tation 
in the 
neighbor- 




kodak pictures of her, declared by the 
landlady to lie excellent likenesses. 

We promptly exhibited the pictures 
to numerous robbery victims, and 
"Betty" was positively identified by 
many of them as the Tiger Girl. 

The following week was marked by 
another series of oil station and drug 
store hold-ups, on at least three of which 
a new figure was in evidence — in the 
person of. a young man, hardly more 
than a boy, who appeared to play his 
r61e in an amateurish manner, under the 
direction of the original trio. 



A BOUT 8 P. M.on October 8th, Officer 
*-* Clarence Williams observed an old 
Cadillac touring-car, in which two men 
were seated, parked in the shadow of a 
group of trees opposite a Hollywood 
drug store. He hurriedly jotted down 
the license number of the car — 1-277-639 — and watched. 

One of the men left the car, went into the drug store and 
ordered a drink at the fountain. Suspicious of the actions of 
the pair, who appeared to be "looking over" the store, 
Williams stepped into another shop and telephoned for rein- 
forcements. Officers Page and Baldridge, of the Hollywood 
Division, and Speck, from University, responded. 

In the meanwhile, the man who had entered the store 
rejoined his companion and they drove away.' Questioned 
by the officers, the druggist informed them that the man had 
been in the place the day before. Moreover, his description 
tallied with that of "Number 1" on the numerous drug store 
robberies committed during the last month. 

The drug store was staked that night, but there was no 
bandit raid. 

The license number of the suspicious Cadillac was at once 
checked, disclosing the fact that the car had been purchased 



in San Francisco some days before, by a man giving his name 




When Detective Lieutenant Doyle, 
who gave this story to TRUE DETEC- 
TIVE MYSTERIES, first saw the Tiger 
Girl (above) she was kneeling in prayer, 
her sleek, brown head bent in penitence 
for her many sins. She blamed many 
of her troubles on Watnick, the tough 
underworld killer with whom she lived. 
Watnick (shown at left in the calm- 
ness of death), got what was coming 
to him in the end -what most killers 
get, sooner or later - a bullet in his 
brain. The Tiger Girl said of him: 
"He certainly had a beautiful 
line! . . . But- he was a brute.' I 
nateo nim: 



hood. We briefly explained our errand. 

These worthy people told us that 
their son, Albert, had left home about 
three months before, suing that he 
was unable to find work — (he was a 
diamond-setter by trade)— and might 
seek his fortune in San Francisco. He 
had returned only once in this interval. A few days before 
our call, he had appeared, driving an old Cadillac touring-car 
and wearing a chauffeur's cap. He had refused to tell his 
parents where he was working or living. 

We learned that before leaving home, young Al had been 
very friendly with a man named John Watnick, whose ad- 
dress was unknown to the older Whizens. The latter declared 
they had no photographs of their son, and maintained, with 
the blindly loving faith of parents the world over, that their 
boy could not have been implicated in any crimes. 

"^KKDLESS to say, we did not share this belief, and had 
^ the Whizen cottage placed under surveillance, pending 
a possible reappearance of the wandering lamb! New bul- 
letins, naming Al Whizen and Betty Berryman, with de- 
scriptions of the entire mob, together with the license number 
of the Cadillac, were at once put out. 

It seemed only a matter of a short (Continued on pug.e\i-j) 




COUPLE ROBBED OF $20,000 GEMS AND CASH! 
Guests Not Molested! 

Mrs. George Wiener was robbed of jewelry valued 
at $20,000 and Mr. Wiener of several hundred dol- 
lars in cash last night, as with their chauffeur and 
four guests they stepped into their Lincoln car out- 
side their residence at 1802 Andrews Avenue, the 
Bronx. 

The Wieners were apparently the intended vic- 
tims, as the hold-up men searched them first. 
While Mr. and Mrs. Wiener were being robbed, the 
other women slipped off much of their jewelry and 
dropped it behind the cushions. They were not 
molested. 

Mrs. Wiener's father, Morris Finkelstein, was 
standing just outside the car wishing them a 
pleasant time, when the four hold-up men ap- 
proached. They shoved him into the car and 
robbed him of $27. 

With Mr. and Mrs. Wiener were Mr. and Mrs. 
Samuel Shieber of the Bronx and Mr. and Mrs. Lee 
Kaplan, 1738 University Avenue, the Bronx. The 
party was on its way to a dinner and ball of resident 
buyers at the HotePPennsylvania. The chauffeur 
is Henry Pegler of 71 West 118th Street. 

Mrs. Wiener's loss included a necklace valued at 
$4,800, which her.husband had given her for Christ- 
mas; a diamond brooch, and a diamond-studded 
watch; also, several valuable diamond rings. 

32 



The UNMASKING 

Here was a tough case to solve — 
for days it seemed absolutely 
hopeless. Then suddenly the 
"break" came — and that first clue 
was some eye-opener to the 
detectives! 

By Judge John E. McGeehan 

District Attorney of Bronx County, N. Y. 

As told to Isabel Stephen 



I READ the foregoing account of the Wiener robbery on 
Sunday morning, January 20th, 1929, while waiting in 
my office in the Bronx County court-house, New York 
City, for the arrival of Assistant District Attorney 
Samuel Foley and Captain Bruckman, who had charge of 
the case. The item appeared in one of the more conservative 
newspapers. 

The more sensational sheets embroidered the facts a bit, 
linking the crime with other brazen cases where jewel-adorned 
women had been stripped of their gems by night-club prowl- 
ers, and so on. 

None of the stories was quite accurate, but this wasn't the 
fault of the reporters. Captain Bruckman had used his dis- 
cretion in suppressing certain items of information which had 
been uncovered in the preliminary investigation, for it is 
immensely advantageous to crooks to know exactly what the 
police have learned and what their theories are concerning 
the crimes committed. 

I was perfectly satisfied with the reports I read in the news- 
papers. Not one of them hinted that the crime was an 
"inside job" — whereas we were convinced that it was, after 
summing up the various phases of the robbery. 

That we had on our hands one of those pesky cases where 
a sordid intrigue between a woman of the "upperworld'' 
and a member of the underworld results in an unexpected 
catastrophe, did not at that time, of course, occur to us. 



Judge McGeehan 
{left) famous 
prosecutor, who 
gave the Bronx 
hold-up case to 
this magazine, 
possesses one of 
the shrewdest 
legal and detective 
minds in the coun- 
try. Picture 
shows him stand- 
ing atop the 
Bronx County Jail 



/CAPTAIN BRUCKMAN had called me on the telephone 
^ immediately upon receiving the Wieners' report of the 
robbery the night before. 1 knew the neighborhood well, 
for I had formerly lived in the house next door to the one 
occupied by the victims of the stick-up. 

When I arrived there, I found the Wieners and their guests 
unusually calm, considering the nerve-racking experience 
they had just undergone. 

They were grouped around a table in the library, at the 
head of which sat Captain Bruckman. Standing at Bruck- 
man's right was a tall, blond young man, pale-faced and 
visibly nervous. In identifying the various persons present, 
the officer referred to the blond youth as the Wieners' chauf- 
feur, Henry Pegler. He then continued with his examination. 

"How were you all seated in the car?" was the first question 
1 heard him put to the woman who had been robbed of her 
jewels. 

Mrs. Wiener paused for a moment before answering. The 
young woman whom the Captain had designated as Mrs. 
Shielx>r leaned forward and opened her lips as if about to 
refresh her hostess's memory, but Bruckman motioned to 
her to be silent. 



of "Mysterious Mrs. X" 



"Mrs. Shieber went into the car 
first," Mrs. Wiener said slowly, as if re- 
constructing the picture, "and she took 
a place in the back seat. Mr. Kaplan 
and Mr. Shieber got in alongside of her. 
Mrs. Kaplan and Mr. Wiener and I 
then got in. I sat on the front seat." 

"The chauffeur was sitting behind his 
wheel when you got in?" the Captain 
asked. 

1 glanced toward the young man and 
saw him squirm uncomfortably at the 
question. 

Mrs. Wiener shook her head. "No. 
Henry was in the back of the house 
with the other servants, and came out a 
few moments after we were seated in 
the car," she explained. 

"Then what happened?" Captain 
Uruckman prompted. 

"My father had come out with us 
and was standing by the car door tell- 
ing us to have a good time. We didn't 
notice anything until a man shoved my 
father into the car and said, 'Get inside 
there!' I saw he had a gun in his hand 
and I said, 'Let the old man alone — put 
your gun down . . .' My husband asked 
him what he wanted, and he said, 'Her 
jewels.' I said, 'Well, you can have 
them, but don't hurt the old man,' for he 
was pushing my father, and I was 
afraid he would hurt him. Then he 
said: 

" '// you look at me again, I'll plug 
you!' 

"I didn't know exactly what he 
meant," she remarked with grim humor, "but I wasn't taking 
any chances. I didn't look at him again. I let him take my 
jewelry, for I knew it was no use putting up an argument 
with them — and I was afraid the gun would go off!" 

"What did the men look like?" was the Captain's next 
question. 

"I only saw the face of the man who took my jewelry," she 
answered. "He was a medium-sized man, with a very tough 
face. His eyes were deep-sunken in their sockets and his 
cheeks were sunken too, and he had a thick stubble on his 
cheeks. His eyebrows were heavy — exceptionally heavy." 

Outside of that, neither Mr. nor Mrs. Wiener could tell us 
anything, they said. Nor did their guests help much. They 
had been startled out of theirwits.it seemed, when they sud- 
denly found themselves surrounded by armed thugs. The 
whole stick-up hadn't taken more than a couple of minutes, 
and the stick-up men had got away before they recovered 
their presence of mind. 

"LJOW did you come to let them- get away?" the Captain 
asked Pegler. "Didn't you make any attempt to 
follow the men?" 

"One of tham had me covered with a gun," he mumbled in a 
shaken voice, "and he said to me, 'Lock the switch and give me 
the keys of Die car!' 1 did. The Cadillac they were in pulled 
up alongside our machine at the start, and one man im- 
mediately covered me with a gun. The four men piled out and 
surrounded our car." 

"My husband has a table reserved at the dinner, and they 
expect him to speak," Mrs. Wiener said to me at this point. 
"Can't we go on there?" 

I consulted with Captain Bruckman. We decided that the 
Wieners and their guests either couldn't or wouldn't give us 




"Get inside there!" came the crisp order from the gunman in the sensational Bronx 
hold-up of Mr. and Mrs. Wiener on January 19th, of this year, which took place 
in front of their home, shown above. A fortune in jewels was quickly stripped 
from the startled victims. After the crime, mystery enveloped it deeper and deeper — 
until the detectives were frankly at their wits' end. Who had been back of 
it? After all- could it be that this was an "inside" job? 



any further important information, and they might as well go. 

"There's nothing you can do to help us," I told Mrs. Wiener 
then. "But you had better take a taxicab if you want to 
leave right away, because we want to question your chauffeur 
as thoroughly as we questioned you all." (If the chap was 
innocent, we didn't want to get him in wrong.) 

It was quite obvious that the chauffeur was not suspected 
in any way by the Wieners or their guests, for they paid no 
attention to the questions being put to him by Captain 
Bruckman. Their one idea at that moment seemed to be to 
get to the dinner-dance at the Pennsylvania Hotel, and they 
left without further delay. 

l&THILE I had been speaking to Mrs. Wiener, however, I 
" had had one ear trained on the conversation taking 
place between the Captain and Pegler. 1 had heard Captain 
Bruckman ask the young man whether he had ever been 
arrested, and had heard his answer in the affirmative; also his 
replies in the affirmative to questions as to whether he had 
ever been convicted and served a term in jail. 

The chauffeur was not placed under arrest, but for the 
psychological effect, we took him over to the station-house 
and there subjected him to a terrific grilling! 

He wasn't of the gangster type. There was no bravado in 
his attitude, and though he evaded our most pressing ques- 
tions about his former arrest, he seemed desperately anxious 
to answer others as to his history and associates. 

As it would be Assistant District Attorney Foley's job to 
prosecute the robbers — if we ever caught them — he was 
present at this examination. 

It was nearly midnight when we let Pegler go. Nothing he 
had said really incriminated him in any way, but his evasions 
were decidedly suspicious. 

33 



34 



True Detective Mysteries 



A Cadillac car had been in the meantime 
found abandoned on University Avenue a 
few blocks away from the Wieners' home. 
Its description tallied with the one Pegler 
had given us of \he machine used by the 
robbers. It was subsequently claimed by a 
physician who had reported it stolen about 
three-quarters of an hour before the 
stick-up. This obviously tied it to the case. 

We had parted shortly after I o'clock 
Sunday morning after going over what 
little we had learned from the examinations, 
agreeing to meet in my office during the 
forenoon. It was for this conference that I 
was waiting while I read the news item 
quoted in the first paragraphs of this 
narrative. 

"TT has me stumped," Captain Bruckman 
said after he and Assistant District 
Attorney Foley joined me and we had 
briefly gone over the events of the night 
before. "If it wasn't for the excellent 
reputation the 
Wieners have, I'd 
be inclined to be- 
lieve it was one of 
those robberies 
faked for the sake 
of the insurance. 
But I'm sure 
that's out of the 
question." 

"I'll bet any- 
thing that that 
chauffeur, Pegler, 
had a hand in it," 




Here we have a man with a record he is 
trying to hide, who finds himself mixed up 
in a robbery that any fool can see is a well- 
planned affair. Pegler strikes me as a 
bright young chap. I don't believe that he 
would be idiot enough to agree to a scheme 
that would throw suspicion on himself. 
They're looking up his record at Head- 
quarters and we'll be able to get a line 
on any underworld affiliations he may 

have " 

As if cued by this statement, the tele- 
phone in the booth rang. Bruckman an- 
swered the call, a scratch pad in his hand. 

After the brief conversation which en- 
sued, he returned to his chair and threw the 
pad on the desk. 

"Pegler was never convicted of ■. felony," 
he said. "He was sent to the workhouse for 
non-support. He had had some trouble 
with his wife, and the case was threshed out 
in the Domestic Court. That was all." 
But that wasn't enough to clear Pegler in 
Foley's estima- 
tion. We went 
all over the case 
again, summing 
up the items that 
suggested an in- 
side job. These 
were: 

1 . The robbers' 
exact timing of 
their arrival. 

2. While the 
three women were 
dressed with equal 




(Top) Assistant District Attorney Samuel Foley, 
who successfully prosecuted the guilty in the big 
Bronx hold-up, four of whom are shown; (upper 
left, oval) George Freud, "the man with the itching 
palm," found guilty; (upper right, oval) ex-Patrol- 
man O. F. Blenk, "the fellow who held the guns and 
kept lookout," sent up for 15 to 30 years; (left) 
Moe Auswaks, "general utility," who received IS 
to 30 years; (right) Jack Levy, the "strong-arm 
man," sentenced to 25 years. Judge McGeehan 
gives full credit for excellent work in this tough 
case to Inspector Duane, Captain Bruckman, 
Lieutenant MacHargan, and Officers Miller, Cronin, 
Burns and Gannon, all of the New York Police 
Department 




Foley said in the positive manner characteristic of prosecuting 
attorneys. 

A. D. A. Foley is a genial chap, but he has a bulldog's 
tenacity when a suspect falls into his net. There's no 
escape until he has worried every scrap of evidence against 
the man or woman who comes in for his dissection. 

"Pegler was in the house when the party got into the car. 
Nobody said just how long it was before he joined them," he 
went on, checking off the items, "and even a few moments 
would be long enough for him to call up waiting confederates 
and tip them off. You can't always trace a local telephone call. 
Why didn't he wait in the car when he brought it round from 
the garage?" 

"It was near freezing last night," Bruckman said, "so there 
wasn't anything odd about the man's remaining indoors until 
his passengers were ready to get in. . . . He was flustered about 
something or other — but there's nothing odd about that. 



smartness in evening clothes, their wraps covered any jewels 
they might be wearing. 

3. Although Mrs. Shieber had taken the place on the back 
seat which rightfully belonged to her hostess, the wife of her 
husband's employer, she was not mistaken by the robbers for 
the wealthy Mrs. Wiener. This indicated that the robbers 
either knew Mrs. Wiener by sight, or had her pointed out by 
someone. ("Who, but the chauffeur?" interjected Foley, 
sotto voce.) 

4. The robbers evidently knew or believed that neither 
Mrs. Kaplan nor Mrs. Shieber was wearing valuable jewelry, 
for they made no attempt to rob them. Nor did they attempt 
to rob the husbands of these guests. This was obviously not 
due to their being scared off, for they had taken time to avoid 
pursuit by locking the car. 

The term, "an inside job," is an elastic one. It might mean 
that one of the Wiener household (Continued on page 66) 



"At the front 
door his mother 
kissed him 
(Leigh ton 
Mount) good- 
by, and for a 
moment let her 
eyes follow him 
as he walked 
down the street. 
She was never 
to sec him 
again!" (Right) 
Mr. and Mrs. 
J. L. Mount, 
the heart-broken 
parents of Leigh- 
ton Mount, who 
did everything 
humanly pos- 
sible to aid in 
solving the rid- 
dle of their son's 
mysterious dis- 
appearance 




By 
Merlin 

Moore 

Taylor 



What Happened to 



Leighton Mount? 

'Tm going into the big scrap. I won 't see you again, " wrote 
Leighton Mount, Northwestern University freshman, to Doris 
Fuchs, a girl friend. Did a mysterious premonition of death 
lie back of those last five words? 



VIOLENCE, a near-drowning, and a mysterious dis- 
appearance marked the annual freshman-sophomore 
class "rush" of Northwestern University, at Evanston, 
Illinois, on the night of September 21st, 1921. 
For three days the students had busied themselves with the 
scholastic year preliminaries of registration, choosing courses, 
installing themselves in dormitories and rooming-houses, 
getting acciuainted and the like. Classes were to start on the 
fourth day, a Thursday. Carrying out a long-standing 
tradition, the evening previous had been designated for the 
hazing of freshmen. 

During that afternoon, posters setting forth the rules of con- 
duct toward upper classmen laid down for the newcomers to 
university life by the sophomores made their appearance upon 
the campus. The "rules" contained the usual instructions of 
humility toward sophomores and obedience to them; pointed 
out that certain spots and walks upon the campus were 
barred to freshmen; ordered the first-year men to identify 
themselves by wearing green caps, and made other require- 
ments calculated to test the mettle of the fledglings and at the 
same time make life for them as miserable as the lives of 
freshmen everywhere have been made from time immemorial. 

As darkness fell, the freshmen, carrying out the unwritten 
code, donned nondescript bits of clothing, daubed their 
cheeks with iodin as a mark of identification, and flung down 
the gage of battle by starting a parade through the streets 



of Evanston, shouting lustily for their foes to appear. 

The sophomores of that year were cocky. They had licked 
the upper classmen the previous fall during their own fresh- 
man year; had tossed the sophomores into the chilly waters of 
I^ke Michigan, which laves the edge of the campus; and 
thereafter had strutted and swashbuckled their way through 
to the end of the term with little of the meekness and humility 
that custom decrees for the tyro in university life. 

So the sophomores sallied forth to accept the challenge of 
the first-year men in belligerent mood. The freshmen were 
anything but mollycoddles, however, and the fight that fateful 
evening would have had a page to itself in .the history of 
Northwestern under any circumstances. 

A NEWSPAPER account the following morning had this 
to say: 

"The class fight at Evanston this year exceeded in violence 
any demonstration of the kind in the north shore suburb for 
years! 

"Soon after nightfall the belligerents swarmed from the 
campus, each side about five hundred strong, and carried 
their battles to the business section of the city, Fountain 
Square on Davis Street. A serious clash was narrowly 
averted at one time when several hundred students stormed 
the Star motion -picture theater, a stone's throw from 
Fountain Square. Police reserves armed with night-sticks, 

35 



36 



True Detective Mysteries 



which they swung lustily, restored a semblance of order. 

"The climax of the night came about midnight, when 
nearly a thousand freshmen and sophomores met in pitched 
battle in Fountain Square. Many windows and heads were 
damaged, clothing was torn to shreds, and yelping students 
in automobiles charged into the melee, flinging decayed 
vegetables — -from tomatoes to cabbages — at each other. 

"During the disturbance, many Sheridan 
Road motorists were pelted with eggs; frater- 
nity house windows and furniture were broken, 
while in Willard Hall hundreds of co-eds pulled , . 
each other's hair and tumbled the furniture 
about." 

The exceptional violence which marked the 
later fighting, it was revealed, was 
a result of overenthusiasm on the 
part of four freshmen, earlier in 
the evening, in dealing with one 
of the sophomores, Arthur Per- 
singer of Williamson, West Vir- 
ginia. 

The four, cruising about in an 
automobile, had caught Persinger, 
taking him to a pier jutting out 
into the lake, and there, several 
hundred feet out from shore, 
tied him — blindfolded and bound 
hand and foot — to a bit of piling, 
with his head toward the water. 

Two fishermen rescued him, 
half-unconscious, when the waves 
began breaking over him and 
threatened to drown him! 

Persinger, suffering from his ex- 
perience, reported it immediately 
to his fraternity brothers. Word 
of the affair spread like wild-fire, 

and the sophomores, spurred by indignation over what easily 
might have developed into a fatality, turned the rush into a 
fight for blood. The freshmen fought back savagely, and so 
the battle was waged fiercely long past midnight into the wee 
sma' hours of the morning, continuing sporadically until 
dawn. 

So was laid the foundation for grim tragedy. 
The victim was leighton Mount, an eighteen-year-old 
freshman, the son of Mr. and Mrs. J. L. Mount of Evanston. 

A SLIGHT figure of a boy, young Leighton had just 
graduated from high school without distinguishing him- 
self in any way, either for bad or for good. His temperament 
was alternately joyous and moody. He had begun to fancy 
himself a nJan rather than a youth, and he was in love, or 
thought he was, with a young woman, Doris Fuchs, several 
years his senior, the maid in an Evanston home. 

Northwestern had not been his choice. He would have 
preferred the University of Illinois, where his only sister was 
a student, and where, being away from home, he might to 
some extent have been his own master. His parents' de- 
cision, however, prevailed, and reluctantly he had enrolled 
at the school in his home town. 

On the afternoon before the class fight, he took his mother 
for a drive in the family car. It was a serious hour for them, 
the mother later reported. She had sensed the boy's lack 
of enthusiasm for the coming days at the university, and she 
suspected that his recent withdrawal into himself had been 
brought about by her efforts to induce him to drop his friend- 
ship with the maid, Doris Fuchs. 

These things had been touched upon during the drive. 
Then, as they passed the campus of Northwestern, another 
youth had swung himself on the running-board of the car. 

"Hello, Mount!" he said. "This is the night of the big 
doings, you know! You're going to be in on the scrap, aren't 
you?" 

"Maybe," young Mount said noncommittally. Then the 




other boy dropped off, and the mother and son drove on- 
"Leighton," the mother later quoted herself as saying, 
"I want you to get as much as possible out of college life, 
in friendships and activities as well as studies. I want you 
to play the game when the game is worth playing, and to 
be a good sport. You have been a real boy. I want you to 

he a real man. Now, this class rush to-night " 

And so the mother urged him to join his 
classmates in the traditional clash, and bit by 
bit won him over to the idea that if he did not 
take part he might so handicap his standing with 
his fellows that he would start his college career 
with a figurative black eye. 

"All right, Mom,", the youth finally agreed. 
"I'll be there!" 

Back in their home, leighton retired to his 
room until supper was called. It was then, ap- 
parently, that he wrote to Doris Fuchs a note 
which was later to assume tremendous signifi- 
cance and puzzle and perplex a great many 
persons. 



T^HE evening meal of mother 
* and son over— the father was 
out of the city on a business trip — 
Mount got himself ready for the 
class fight. He donned his bathing 
suit, a discarded and mismated 
coat and pair of trousers belonging 
to his father, a faded khaki shirt 
and tennis shoes. 

At the front door his mother, 
with a final few gay words, kissed 
him good-by, and for a moment 



(Above) J. Allen 
Mills, one of the 
principal figure* 
in this myster- 
ious case. He 
was freshman 
leader at North- 
western Univer- 
sity on the fatal 
night of Leigh- 
ton Mount's 
strange disap- 
pearance during 
the freshman- 
sophomore class 
"rush" 

(Right) John 
Scott, son of the 
President of 
Northwestern 
University, who 
was grilled in 
the investigation 
of the Leighton 
Mount mystery. 
He refused to 
talk, on the 
grounds that the 
oath of his fra- 
ternity prevent- 
ed him 

let her eyes follow him as he walked briskly down the street. 
She was never to see him again! 

Lat? the next day it became a matter of public knowledge 
that Leighton Mount had not returned to his home. 

His mother, made frantic by his absence, appealed to 
President Walter Dill Scott of Northwestern, and to the police. 
Then, as the hours passed and no word of him was received, 
she telegraphed her husband to come home. 

Inquiry among the students disclosed that the midnight 
battle in Fountain Square had not been the last big clash 6f 
the night. Driven off the streets by the police, the students 




What Happened to Leighton Mount? 



37 



had returned to the campus. 

Some 250 freshmen had made 
their way to the vicinity of 
"Patten gymnasium, and while 
a number of them staged a war- 
dance as a lure to their oppo- 
nents, the others had lain in 
ambush. A hundred sopho- 
mores had charged down upon 
the dancers, and a free-for-all 
had followed. Members of 
both sides were seized and 
hurled into the lake. Al- 
though outnumbered more than 
two to one, the sophomores 
had seemed to have the best 
of it. 

HPO cap their victory, the 
*■ second-year men seized sev- 
eral freshmen, put them in 
automobiles and bore them off 
west of the town to a county 
forest preserve. 

Here the captives were com- 
pelled to disrobe, and the soph- 
omores departed with the 
garments, leaving them to find 
their way back to their lodgings 
as best they could. 

All of the following forenoon, 
motorists passing the forest 
preserve found themselves 
hailed from the underbrush by 





(Above) Doris 
Fuchs, the girl 
who'received the 
much - discussed 
mysterious note 
from Leighton 
Mount, written, 
as was believed, 
on the day of 
his disappear- 
ance — she, later, 
making an amaz- 
ing statement 
re 1 a t i v e to 
thoughts which 
she said he had 
expressed to her 

(Left) Arthur 
Persinger, 
Northwestern 
University 
freshman who 
struck "hard go- 
ing" in the big 
class rush, he 
being blind- 
folded, bound 
hand and foot to 
a pier, and 
nearly drowned 
in Lake Michi- 
gan 



2 A. M., when Harry Cook, an 
Evanston high school boy who 
had been friendly with him and 
who was only a spectator in 
the rush, saw him acting as a 
lookout for the freshmen who 
were lying in ambush. Then 
the sophomores had api>eared, 
and the battle was on. Cook 
said he did not see Mount 
again, as he himself was taken 
prisoner, his captors being 
under the impression that 
he was a collegian, and was 
carried off to the forest pre- 
serve. 

At this stage there enters the 
picture a youth who was 
destined to become one of the 
central figures of the mysterious 
case. Born Mcltz, he had 
Anglicized his name into J. 
Allen Mills. His family in 
Chicago was reported to be 
well-to-do. In the rush he had 
been leader of the freshmen, 
but whether by choice of his 
fellows or of his own initiative 
is not of record. 

Mills displayed feverish ac- 
tivity in the search for Mount, 
although he said he did not 
know him even by sight. He 
conferred frequently with Mr. 
and Mrs. Mount. He per- 
sonally led searchers to the 
torest preserve and directed a canvass of it on the theory 
that the missing youth might have been one of the fresh- 
men carried there by the sophomores, and that he 
might be wandering in the woods or might be lying there 
injured. He praised the . work of the coast guard in 
dragging the lake near shore, although he said that all 
those who had been tossed into the water, both freshmen 
and sophomores, had been accounted for. 

Mills paid frequent visits to the office of President 
Scott to inquire concerning the developments in the case, 
.and to report everything he heard that might be of value. 
His interest he explained as due to the fact that, having 
been the freshman leader, he felt a moral responsibility if, 
as generally was believed, Mount had come to any harm 
during the fight. 



the unfortunate victims with frantic pleadings for clothing. 
The rest of the day, the freshmen were seen heading for town 
in whatever garb they had been able to obtain, while some 
of the unclad youths remained in hiding until the others 
could return with clothing. 

Little information about Mount was obtained. Classes not 
having started yet, he was known to few students, even his 
classmates. He had been timid about getting into the fray, ' 
those who had noticed him said, and was not prominent in 
the fighting. 

He last was seen in the vicinity of the gymnasium about 



PVANSTON police, under Chief Charles VV. Leggett, 
^ took an active part in the search. Long experience 
with Northwestern students, however, had taught them 
not to gage college boys by normal standards. lacking 
anything upon which to base a suspicion of foul play, they 
advanced a theory that young Mount was being held a 
prisoner by other students who were getting a thrill from 
the sensation that had been created. 

Doris Fuchs, injecting herself into the case, gave out the 
information that she had received a farewell note from 
Mount shortly before the class fight began. Just what 
that note said immediately became a bone of contention. 
Various versions of the wording were made public, and all of 
them were attributed to Miss Fuchs. 

The family of the missing youth said that the note merely 
bade her good-by, and included the words: 

"I'm going' into the big scrap to-night. I won't see you 
again." 

The Mounts placed two innocuous interpretations upon 
it. One was, as she admitted, that Doris had told Mount 
she was going away from Evanston that night, and that the 
youth had written his farewell because participation in the 



38 



True Detective Mysteries 



rush would prevent him from saying it person- 
ally. The other interpretation was that Mount, 
heeding his mother's advice during their ride, 
had decided to break off his friendship with the 
girl, put her out of his thoughts and devote 
himself to his studies, and had chosen to tell 
her so by mail to avoid any unpleasantness that 
might take place at a face-to-face meeting. 

Campus gossip asserted that the note told the 
girl that he had entered the fight only for the 
purpose of committing suicide under cover of its 
excitement! 

Police laconically stated that the note told 
Miss Fuchs that during the rush Mount pro- 
posed to disappear and "try some other place." 

University officials, probing the disappearance, 
were at first convinced that young Mount, dis- 
satisfied with his family's plans for his future, 
had decided to run away, and actually had 
done so. 

"There is nothing to it," President Scott was 
quoted as saying. "The police are not worried. 
The mother is not worried. I have authori- 
tative evidence that Mount has merely left 
the city, and I presume that he will return 
when he thinks it over or will notify his family 
of his whereabouts if he has not already done 
so." 




and occupied a room with Leighton. 
In connection with young Mount's 
disappearance, he had played only 
a minor part. He had seen Leigh- 
ton on the way to the class rush, 
but they had parted shortly after- 
ward and he had not seen Mount 
again. 

His revival of that year-and-a- 
half-old mystery now proved, how- 
ever, only a one-day sensation. What 
he offered as the fruth of the mat- 
ter was no more than what many 
persons had always believed. He 
was not questioned further along 
that line. 

Then — a scant week later — the 
body of Leighton Mount (or, 
rather, the bones that had been 
the frame of that body), was 
found! 

Lake Michigan at certain seasons 
of the year is far from being a 
peaceful lx>dy of water. Wind and 



This was accompanied by a scathing denun- 
ciation of the newspapers on the part of trustees and officials 
of the university, who declared that great injustice was being 
done the institution and its reputation damaged by uncalled- 
for sensational stories. 

Doris Fuchs then got herself back into the public prints 
with an amazing statement that young Mount had been 
melancholy and despondent; that on the day before the class 
rush he had told her he was so unhappy that he was seriously 
contemplating suicide. Coyly, she intimated that it was love 
for her which she found it impossible to return, that had 
depressed the boy. 

"So far as I was concerned, we were only good friends," 
she said. "He made me his confidante, and I proved a mental 
aid to him. He never so much as kissed me, although he had 
expressed a wish to do so." 

Following this, she left her place of employment, and it 
was said that she had gone to her parents' home in Wisconsin. 

After that, with only the father and mother of the missing 
boy persisting, through private detectives, in the effort to 
find him or learn his fate, interest in the disappearance of 
Leighton Mount began to wane. Soon the case dropped out 
of the papers altogether. 

TN April, 1923, nineteen months later, the Mount case 
* was recalled to a forgetful public by another freshman- 
sophomore hazing episode at Northwestern. 

Members of the sophom6re class — the same youths for the 
most part who had as freshmen engaged in the vicious battling 
which had taken place the night Leighton Mount disappeared 
— were engaged in showing the first-year men their "place." 
In one set-to, a car of sophomores deliberately rammed an 
automobile containing freshmen, and Louis Aubere, riding 
on the running-board of the latter car, was knocked off and 
killed. 

During the investigation that followed this tragedy, 
Aubere's death faded into the background when one of the 
sophomores, in the course of his testimony, calmly said it was 
a matter of common knowledge on the university campus 
that I.eighton Mount had been killed accidentally by hazers, 
that his body had been hidden and that those in the secret 
had entered by oath into a solemn pact never to clear up the 
mystery! 

The student who made this startling charge was Roscoe 
Conkling Fitch of Ludington, Michigan, son of the county 
attorney there. For a time he had lived in the Mount home 




(Above) Roscoe 
Conkling Fitch, 
who made the 
startling state- 
ment that it was 
a matter of com- 
mon knowledge 
on the univer- 
sity campus that 
Leighton Mount 
had been killed 
acciden tally by 
hazers, that his 
body had been 
hidden, and that 
those in the se- 
cret had entered 
into a solemn 
pact never to 
clear up the mys- 
tery! 

(Right) Leigh- 
ton Mount, cen- 
tral figure in one 
of the most baf- 
fling "disappear- 
ance" cases in 
police annals 

waves combine to make it a raging demon that batters and 
tears at its shore line with terrific violence. To offset this, 
breakwaters have been built at frequent intervals. They 
are built in the form of piers that jut out into the lake at an 
angle for several hundred feet. They are constructed by 
driving parallel rows of piling deep into the sand for the walls 
of the breakwater, and filling the space between them with 
heavy boulders. The top is boarded over with heavy plank- 
ing to make a walk.for those who want a walk out over the 
water, thus combining breakwater and promenade. 

OKNRY WARREN, aged twelve, had gone down to the 
1 ■ lake shore to play on the afternoon of April 29th, a few 
days after the Aubere death. He had walked out upon the 
pier, and a hole some twenty by seventeen inches, which had 
been broken into two of the planks forming the cover of the 
breakwater, attracted his attention. 

The boy let himself through the hole and began crawling 
around among tlje boulders between the pilings. Twenty- 
five feet from the hole by which he had entered, he came 
upon a bone. 

Raised in the West, Henry Warren often had seen the 



What Happened to Leighton Mount? 



39 



skeletons of animals, but the shape and appearance of the 
bone he now saw were unfamiliar to him. He picked it up 
and, wondering how it ever had come under the pier, ex- 
amined* it. It suggested itself to him as about the length of 
his leg between knee and ankle — a bit longer, perhaps; and 
from that it was but a step to begin comparing its shape with 
such of his own shin-bone as he could feel through the flesh. 

The boy laid the bone down after a bit, and began looking 
around him again. What he saw sent him scurrying back 
over the rocks to the hole, out upon the pier, and back home 
as fast as he could go! 

Just below the rock where he had picked up the bone, he 
had seen other bones; toe bones, protruding through the 
remains of a rotten tennis shoe; ribs, finger bones and, sur- 
mounting all, a grinning human skull! 

Sick with horror, the boy gasped out the story of his dis- 
covery to his mother. She promptly telephoned the police. 

It was dark when two officers made their appearance at 
the Warren home and, after hearing Henry's story in full, 
insisted that the trembling youngster accompany them to 
the pier. He was asked to point out where he had seen the 
skeleton, but was too badly frightened to locate the spot 
from above. After a 
little, however, he was 
persuaded to take a 
flash-light, shine it 
through the cracks in 
the wooden planking, 
and apply his eyes to 
first one aperture and 
then another, until he 
saw the bones. 

Then the policeman 
chopped a hole di- 
rectly above them 
with an ax, and one 
of them lowered him- 
self down into the hole 
and gathered up some 
of the bones. Other 
bones he was com- 
pelled to leave where 
they were until more 
policemen could be 
summoned, because 
over them rested five 
boulders, each weighing 
around one hundred 
pounds! 

QTIIER things 
found on the spot 
that night included a 
length of rotting rope, 
bits of cloth, a disin- 
tegrating tennis shoe, 
and leather belt, still 

buckled, with the significant initials L M engraved upon it. 

The mystery of whether Leighton Mount lived or was dead 
seemed solved — but Northwestern University officials, 
shocked and deeply concerned, were reluctant about ad- 
mitting it. 

In a night session of the university trustees, with police 
surrounding the building wh^re they met and spot lights 
playing upon all its approaches, several preliminary con- 
clusions were reached and given out to the press. 

They included a statement that the skeleton found under 
the rier was not necessarily that of Mount; that the skeleton 
might have been put there as a hoax, and that if the skeleton 
actually should he proved to be that of Mount, then it was 
quite possible that Mount had killed himself. 

Cook County police officials bestirred themselves, now. 
The State's attorney and the coroner set men to work screen- 
ing the sand, under the pier, and brought to light more bones. 



Most important, they found the teeth missing from the skull, 
including one with a gold crown that made complete the 
identification of the skeleton from the records of the Mount 
family dentist. 

It was no longer possible to believe that a cruel hoax had 
been perpetrated. 

The skeleton really was all that remained of Leighton 
Mount — the timid freshie who had plunged into the ferocious 
battle that fateful September night "to prove he was a man." 

A grand jury began delving into the case. Fifty or more 
students who had been enrolled as freshmen or sophomores at 
the time Mount disappeared, were ordered brought in as 
witnesses. Catching them in order to serve summonses 
proved difficult. Many avoided their lodgings and took 
refuge with friends. Others found it convenient to leave 
town. 

JOHN SCOTT, son of North western's president, was among 
those summoned for questioning. His cousin, Fred Scott, 
son of a professor, could not be located for several days. 

Fitch, found at his home in Ludington, Michigan, said 
over the telephone that "vigilantes" (Continued on page 123) 




(Above) Police, in their 
search for further evi- 
dence, • are shown 
screening sand from 
under the pier where 
the skeleton was found 

(Right) "Just below 
the rock where he had 
picked up the bone, he 
had seen other bones; 
toe bones, protruding 
through the remains of 
a rotten tennis shoe; 
ribs, finger bones, and, 
surmounting all, a 
grinning human 
skull!" The boy who 
made this ghastly dis - 
was Henry 
Warren (right) 



™ E Real TRUTH About 



Here, for the first time, the public is given the plain facts — here will 
be pictured Chapman, so-called "super-criminal," and "Dutch" Anderson, 
the "master-mind"— just as they really were, stripped of their theatrical 
trappings that during their meteoric careers made of them little less 
than bandit "heroes" in the public eye 



Foreword 



PACTS the public never dreamed of, 
that lay behind the newspaper head- 
lines at the time the sensational man-hunt for the notorious 
bandits, Gerald Chapman and George ("Dutch") Anderson, was 
being conducted, will be bared for the first time in this story. 

They were collected from a varied list of sources, some of which 
must necessarily remain secret. Court records helped trace the 
stolen bonds through the various passers and receivers. And a 
former underworld intimate of the two highwaymen supplied 
details that give color to the other side of the picture. 

Fictitious names have been substituted for all Post Office in- 
spectors and detectives. But the actual course of the man-hunt is 
given , step by step, exactly as it developed. 

This is not another fantastic tale built around 
the glorified personalities of Gerald Chapman, 
"super-criminal," and Dutch Anderson, "mas- 
ter-mind," who posed so spectacularly in the 



"I've been robbed! Two men held 
me up with guns on Leonard Street 
and stole several sacks of registered 
mail!" gasped Frank Havernack, Jr. (see 
insert photo at right) driver of this U. 
S. mail truck, (right) victim of one of the 
biggest robberies of all time, on the night 
of Oct. 24th, 1921. Those two men were 
Gerald Chapman, later to be headlined 
as America's most notorious bandit, and 
his pal, Charles P. Heins, better known 
as "Dutch" Anderson. The "haul" was 
approximately one and one half millions 
in bonds a/id currency. It was rob- 
beries such as this which revolutionized 
methods of transporting valuable reg- 
istered mail, as is shown by this 
modern battle cruiser of the U. S. mails, 
(below) being inspected by the then 
Postmaster General, Will Hays (with 
hand in pocket, wearing overcoat) 



By David Lindsay 



limelight during one of the most sensa- 
tional trials ever blazoned in news- 
papers throughout the English-speak- 
ing world. 

Gerald Chapman was undoubtedly one of the most interesting 
criminals of modern times. Newspaper feature writers used miles 
of typewriter ribbon on him, and ended by creating an idealized 
character which combined the daring of Jesse James, the ruthless- 
ness of the apache, Clair Raoul, the suavity of Doctor Crippen and 
the ingenuity of the notorious Perugia, who committed the famous 
theft of the " Mona Lisa." 

Dutch Anderson provided a fine 
foil for the histrionic art of Chap- ^^^^^ 
He was the stoical, enigmatic. 





40 



intellectual giant, "professor-coach" of the younger and more 
impetuous thief. 

Here, for the first time, the public is going to be taken 
behind the scenes and see these two characters, as they 
really were, stripped of their theatrical trappings. In relegat- 
ing them to their proper places in this unsavory drama, the 
narrative will include a graphic portrayal of the gigantic 
machinery of the United States Post Office Department's 
own secret service, which, like the mills of the gods, grinds 
slowly but with terrific effect. 

THE great Leonard Street mail robbery, pulled off 
by Gerald Chapman and George ("Dutch") Ander- 
son, was re|x>rted to the police of the Charles Street 
precinct, New York City, a [few minutes after its 
occurrence on the night of October 24th, 1921. 

About 10 o'clock that night a wire-mesh-enclosed mail 
truck rattled furiously up to the door of the police station. 
A young man in the uniform of the United States Motor 
Vehicle Service, leaping off the driver's seat, dashed up 
the steps between the two green lights. 



CHAPMAN 
America's 
"Super- 
Bandit" 



(Right) A characteristic pose 
of Gerald Chapman— "posed" 
for the proper effect by the 
bandit who knew his public. 
Chapman took on this deeply 
thoughtful look for the benefit 
of the news photographers 
while he was waiting for the 
jury to bring in a verdict 
in his case 





finally said, attempting to console him as the in- 
terrogation ended. "You couldn't have acted 
differently. What good would it have done if 
you'd put up a fight? They'd have probably 
bumped you off, taken the keys from your body 
and left the rest of the mail scattered on the 
street. Better call up your superior right 
away." 

The driver, Frank Havernack, Jr., telephoned 
the night superintendent of the Motor Vehicle 
Service and briefly described the catastrophe. 

"Bring your truck in. Check up on the miss- 
ing sacks anil report to my office as soon as 
possible," was the curt response. 



W 



(Above) Gerald Chapman was known to "hit the high spots" in New 
York's night life. This photograph shows the interior of one of these 
"palaces of gayety" where the cost of gayety is very high 



Driving head-on against a biting gale blowing off the East 
River had whipped his face raw-red, but beads of perspiration 
pearled on his forehead as he presented himself before the 
desk lieutenant. 

"I've been robbedl Two men held me up with — guns on — 
, Leonard Street and stole several sacks of registered mail!" he 
gasped. 

The. lieutenant calmly made an entry in his book. Murder, 
suicide, robbery or stick-up — all were one to him; stories of 
violence in all degrees dripped from his pen in a never-ending 
stream. 

Only an employee of the United States Post Office can ap- 
preciate the desperate feeling of irreparable disaster which 
overwhelmed the nerve-racked driver as he answered the 
routine questions put by the officer. 

"Don't feel so badly about it, old man," the lieutenant 



ITHIN twenty minutes Havernack 
had backed his lorry into the General 
Post Office shed, checked his load with the list 
given him at the Old Post Office in City Hall 
Square, and was climbing the long flight of 
stone steps fronting the huge General Post Office 
building at Eighth Avenue and Thirty-First 
Street, en route to his chief's quarters. 

Less than an hour before he had faced death, 
but that had been far less bitter than the oppressive throbbing 
sense of impending disgrace which now seemetl to paralyze 
his every muscle. The crime had been carried out with such 
detailed precision that the whole proceeding had not occupied 
more than a minute and a half! It seemed humanly impossible 
that such expedition could have been effected without a re- 
hearsal — unless the driver had acted as a confederate. 
Would his word be accepted? These rankling apprehensions 
were buzzing in Havernack's stunned consciousness as he 
approached and opened the door of the superintendent's 
office. 

When he entered and stood uncertainly in front of the desk, 
his chief glanced sharply at him for a moment or two. Then, 
laconically, he ordered the unfortunate driver to sit down and 
proceed with his account of the robbery. 

"When I left the down-town post-office, it was nine-twenty 

41 



42 



True Detective Mysteries 



by the City Hall clock," he be- 
gan, nervously twisting his 
chauffeur's cap in his sweat- 
moistened hands, his eyes anx- 
iously seeking to read the ex- 
pression in the superintendent's 
noncommittal face. "I went up 
Broadway as usual. About a 
hundred feet south of I^eonard 
Street, a car — a pleasure car — 
came up on the right of my 
truck, and from that car a man 
stepped onto my truck — hoth 
were running abreast of one an- 
other. He first jumped on the 
running-board and then climbed 
onto my seat. He had on a light 
overcoat, and his hand was in 
the pocket of the coat, and he 
pressed it to my side. It might 
have been a gun — it felt like a 
gun — but I don't know for cer- 
tain." 

"Did you note the number of 
the car?" the superintendent 
asked, looking up from the 
notes he was making on a 
scratch pad. 

HAVERNACK shook his 
head. "No, sir, I couldn't 
see it. The two machines were 
running along side-by-side, you 
see. The license was too low 
for me to see it. Besides, in 
about a second's time another 
man jumped out of the car onto 
the running-board. He had a 
silver gun in his hand, and wore 
eye-glasses. The first man said : 
'Turn to the left into Leonard 
Street, or I'll kill you!' He. said 
it very soft, but I knew he 
meant it. 

"You see, sir, I couldn't do 
anything else. There wasn't a 
soul in sight. So I drove into 
Leonard Street. We went west 
for about one hundred feet when 
the second man ordered me to 
throw up my hands! When he 
said that, he leaped to the pave- 
ment — he had been standing all 
the while with one foot on the 
running-board of the truck and 
the other on the mud-guard of 
the limousine, holding on to the 
wind-shield." 

Like a flash, Havernack ex- 
plained, the thought struck him 
that the man who wore the eye- 
glasses might be drunk. But, 
drunk or sober, he was equally 
dangerous with that gun in his 
hands; consequently, the 
driver's hands shot aloft and the 
car swerved dangerously. 

Havernack shuddered as he 
recalled the incident, then continued his amazing tale: 
"The first man — the one sitting next me — swore, and 
grabbed hold of the wheel. Kicking my foot to one side, he 
jammed on the brakes and stopped the car. He told me to 
shut down the motor and follow him to the back of the 
truck. The second man, from the street, kept me cov- 



ered with his silver gun. 

"When we reached the back 
of the truck, the first man or- 
dered me to o|>en the lock. 1 — 
I did. Then he tore open the 
grating and l)egan dragging out 
the mail-pouches and throwing 
them on the street. ..." 

"What had become of the 
limousine?" the superintendent 
interrupted coldly. 

"It had backed out like a 
streak when I lost control of my 
truck. Next time I saw it, it 
was parked about twenty feet 
behind us. It was too dark to 
see the license number there. 
We were just outside the radius 
of the light from the corner 
lamp, but I could see the 
second man pretty clearly — the 
one with the silver gun and 
thick-rimmed glasses. 

"They ordered me back on 
my seat. The second man fol- 
lowed me with his gun covering 
me. As soon as I got on my 
seat, the man with the glasses 
threw a bag over my head. He 
told me to put my hands on the 
steering-wheel. Then I fslt a 
rope thrown over my shoulders 
and about my hands, binding 
them to the wheel. He fum- 
bled with the knot a while. . . . 

"In no time I heard their car 
drive off. The man hadn't 
succeeded in tying the knot — I 
don't know why. After they 
were gone, I hadn't any trouble 
in getting the bag off my head. 
I looked round to sec if I could 
see anybody, but I didn't see a 
soul. I picked the pouches and 
registered mail out of the street 
and threw them into the 
truck — put the lock on, went 
to the front and cranked up the 
motor, and ran down to the 
police station. 

"When I checked up on the 
pouches in the truck and com- 
pared them with the ones on 
the list, I found there were five 
missing." 

ID y ° U rec °8nize the 
make of the limousine?" 
the superintendent asked. 

"Yes, sir. It was a Packard 
twin-six." 

"Describe the men as best 
you can!" 

Havernack had cudgeled his 
memory in expectation of this 
order. 

That the descriptions which 
he now gave of the two 
bandits were authentic descriptions of Gerald Chapman and 
Dutch Anderson, was amply proved by later developments. 

' 'The first man ' ■ — (Chapman) — ■ - wore a light, belted coat 
and light-gray soft hat. Under the coat I saw a dark 
suit — it looked like a dress suit. He was about thirty, over 
medium height, and stoop-shouldered. He was smooth - 




(Top) Chapman, the "super-bandit," in a pleas- 
ant mood. Photo was taken while he was in 
custody, attending court trial. The gentleman 
with glasses is "Dutch" Anderson, the "master- 
mind." As to how much of a master-mind he 
really was, this story will reveal 



The Real Truth About Chapman — America's "Super-Bandit" 



43 



shaven and his eyes were sort of ice-blue — bulging eyes. He 
had thick lips. 

"The one with the glasses" — (Anderson) — "had a small 
mustache. He appeared older, and was stocky. He had gray, 
or sandy, eyebrows, and a small, thin-lipped mouth. His 
coat was dark and baggy— not smart, like the other's. 

"I didn't see the chauffeur very clearly." 

That was the gist of the driver's information. Though 
the superintendent questioned him at great length throughout 
the best part of two hours, he did not succeed in obtaining any 
direct clue to the identity of the highwaymen; so far as Haver- 
nack had heard, the pair had not once addressed each other. 

Finishing his questioning, the superintendent ordered 
Havernack to report to the Inspector in Charge the following 
morning. 



(Right) The old City Hall 
Post Office, at City Hall 
Square, New York, from 
which the ill-fated mail 
truck left on the journey in 
which its driver was held 
up and more than a million 
dollars in bonds and cur- 
rency stolen from it by the 
daring bandits, Chapman 
and Anderson. Below is the 
new New York General Post 
Office, at 31st Street and 
Eighth Avenue, to which 
Havernack, driver of the 
mail truck, was summoned 
to give his report of just 
what happened on that 
fateful night ride 



KfEXT morning, when Havernack arrived at the General 
Post Office, he was told to report to Inspectors Lord and 
Stone, who had been placed in charge of the investigation. 
Already, the Inspectors had set the wheels in motion to ascer- 
tain the extent of the mail-truck loot. Men were out on the 
job gathering data for an inven- 
tory from the various houses 
that had registered the stolen 
mail. 

Night had brought no rest to 
the mail-truck driver. He was 
haggard and ashen-pale; in two 
minutes' time, his whole world 
had toppled over 

A typed copy of his state- 
ment lay on the desk before 
Stone, who, with his customary 
curtness, immediately started 
to fire short, staccato shots at 
the man he was quizzing. 

Unnerved though he was, 
Havernack adhered with des- 
perate doggedness to his orig- 
inal story. 

At the end of half an hour, he 
was dispatched to look over the 
large collection of photographs 
of highwaymen and post-office 
robbers indexed in the rogues' 
gallery, to identify if possible 
the two men he had encoun- 
tered the night before. 

Inspector Lord, who had been 
present during the examination, 
had been simulating concen- 
trated attention on a sheaf of 
correspondence; but he had not 
missed a word. 

Lord and Stone had worked 
together on many important 
cases. . They furnish an ex- 
cellent example of the success 
with which two diametrically 
opposite personalities can dove- 
tail their divergent methods in 
reaching the same goal. In- 
spector Lord is tall, broad- ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^M 
shouldered, of rather neutral 
coloring, with friendly,' 

twinkling eyes and a ready smile. In appearance he is a 
typical good fellow, and might with equal success pass for 
that nebulous character popularly known as a "man about 
town," for a broker or a traveling salesman. Stone is in 
striking contrast. Dark, of an olive complexion, slender and 
of medium height, he puts a more equivocal face before 
the world. 

"No complicity there," Stone remarked, as his partner 
joined him in order to discuss the case. 



"Doesn't look like it," Lord agreed, but modified the 
certainty of the other by the tone of dubiousness which 
colored his words. 

"If he had been tied lightly, or had had some defense to 
offer of having put up a fight with the hold-up men, it would 
have looked suspicious," Stone continued, reasoning aloud 
his elimination of at least one suspect right at the start. 
"His story sounds too incredible not to be true! No, Haver- 
nack was certainly not in on this job!" 

"/"OBVIOUSLY, too, the mob didn't belong to the 'killer' 
type," Lord contributed. "The 'killers' don't wait for 
resistance; they take a crack at their victim first for^sheer love 
of brutality, and make the search later. Looks like the work 
of professionals, all right; but if it hadn't been for the driver's 
description of the men, I might have been inclined to believe 
the job to have been the work of drug-jagged desperadoes. 
That part of New York is practically deserted at nine-thirty, 
and it looks as if they had checked up pretty carefully against 
the likelihood of a patrolman coming along. But the second 
man's gymnastic stunt of riding with one foot on the mud- 
guard and the other on his running-board sounds erratic, to 
say the least!" 

"According to Havernack," said Stone, "the approach of 
the gang's limousine, and the preliminaries of the 




hold-up itself, didn't take more than a few seconds. Still, 
they couldn't count on the accident of some late officer-worker 
on Broadway seeing the performance, so they turned into the 
side street. . . . There is something odd about this hold-up; a 
recklessness that isn't often practised by 'good thieves.' " 

It was nearing noon by that time. The two men rose and 
were putting on their coats when a clerk entered and handed 
Inspector Lord a sheet of paper. 

It was the inventory of stolen mail. 



44 



True Detective Mysteries 



Lord glanced over it rapidly. 
He whistled softly 

"ONE MILLION-FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOUR 
THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINE DOL- 
LARS!" he ejaculated. "That's all they got away with!" 

They stared at each other, momentarily stunned. 

"That's the biggest haul ever made in this part of the 
country in the history of the Post Office Department," Lord 
whispered, awe-struck. 

Here was news that would have the country by the ears, 
once it was out! 

"You've got the complete list of the losses?" Stone asked, 
galvanized into action. 

Lord nodded, his eyes blazing. "Yes, this is it. I'll send 
it to the printer right away, so the banks and brokerage 
houses can get it right off!" He jammed his finger on the 
buzzer. 

"Alarm sent out yet?" Stone was referring to the official 
announcement which is sent to police departments through- 
out the country following such a crime, notifying them 
to be on the lookout for the criminals. It includes a noti- 
fication to the Bureau of Identification in Washington, where 
a complete file of all post-office robbers, with the description 
and methods of operation, is kept. 

"Yes. This morning. Maybe we'll learn something from 
that " 

Already, the machinery wasrevolving. Within twelve hours, 
thousands of individuals throughout the country — police, 
detectives, Post Office secret service agents — had definitely 
allied themselves against the desperadoes who had held up 
the millon-dollar mail truck on Leonard Street. 

TOURING the four months which followed, little apparent 

progress was made. A 
number of suspects were con- 
sidered, but, upon investiga- 
tion, eliminated. 

Inspector Lord, in order to 
cover every angle, instituted a 
thorough investigation within 
the Post Office itself. This 
work took many months. 

Then, on March 1st, one of 
the first "hot" bonds reap- 
peared. Credit for its dis- 
covery belongs to an unknown 
girl clerk possessing an ex- 
ceptionally keen memory- 

In making up her columns of 
bonds received by the bank 
employing her, she came across 
one with a number identical 
with another of the same issue 
which she had entered the 

previous day. Examination under a microscope revealed 
that the bond had been tampered with, and the bank's 
private detectives traced it back through various bond 
houses to a Detroit real estate dealer, to whom, for reasons 
which will later appear, we shall refer by the fictitious name 
of Peter T. Morton. 

Upon comparing the falsified security with those on 
"Warnings" sent out by the bankers' mutual protective 
association, police departments and the Post Office, it was 
found listed on the notice broadcast at the .time of the 
Leonard Street mail robbery. 

Officials of the New York Post Office were immediately 
notified, and Inspector Stone boarded the next train that 
left for the city that Ford made famous. 

The methods of the inspectors' division of the United 
States Post Office in many ways resemble those of Scotland 
Yard. Secretly and tirelessly, they weave every thread of 
the web in which they plan to catch their man. No matter 
how obviously suspicion appears to point to a certain in- 
dividual, until that suspect has been thoroughly investigated 




An early "portrait" of Gerald Chapman — taken when 
he first was caught in the web of the law 



and his connection wiih the crime established practically be- 
yond the shadow of a doubt, he is left at liberty and in igno- 
rance of impending arrest. 

Peter T. Morton bore an excellent reputation in Detroit, 
and his business appeared to be in a flourishing condition. 
Inspector Stone, however, did not approach him with the re- 
quest for an explanation of his possession of stolen property 
until he had made a very searching investigation. His 
training had taught him that membership in the best town 
and country clubs and a high social and business standing are 
not always criteria of a man's integrity. A startling illustra- 
tion of this will be given in connection with this case later on. 

The most exhaustive scrutiny of Morton's public and 
private life established his absolute integrity, convincing the 
investigator that he would be safe in taking the realtor into 
his confidence. 

A note of carefully worded introduction brought Stone into 
Morton's presence without the formality of having to divulge 
the nature of his business to any clerk or secretary. 

From a bill fold, the Inspector withdrew the doctored 
bond. He passed it across the desk, explaining that it be- 
longed to the loot stolen in the Leonard Street mail robbery, 
in New York City. 

"Can you tell me right off, Mr. Morton, how this bond came 
into your possession?" he asked, without further preamble. 
"If you will look at it under this microscope, you'll see that it 
has been 'scratched.' " 

Morton examined the "hot" bond curiously, hypnotized 
by that sinister fascination the handiwork of criminals holds 
for all those whose inhibitions keep them within the boun- 
daries prescribed by law. 

"I, personally, handled that deal," he said slowly. "Some 
time ago — I can get the exact date from our records — a man 

who called himself Edward P. 
Gensler came to me, and said 
he was interested in some lots 
in one of our suburban develop- 
ments. He purchased forty 
lots at the market price of ten 
thousand dollars, for which he 
offered me gilt-edged bonds. I 
sold those through my broker 
for the sum of fifteen thousand 
dollars, and gave him the five 
thousand difference." 

"I'M afraid we'll find that all 
" of them were 'scratched,' " 
the Inspector put in dryly. 
"You understand, of course, 
that we want to keep this mat- 
ter strictly undercover, so that 
whoever Gensler is passing the 
bonds for won't get on to the 
fact that the New York police are on his trail." 
Morton readily reassured him on this point. 
"Now," continued Stone, "will you give me as accurate a 
description as you can of the man who called hitnself Edward 
P. Gensler?" 

The real estate man took a moment or two for the mar- 
shaling of details before he replied: 

"Gensler was a man of rather uncertain age — somewhere 
between thirty-five and forty. He was of stocky build, had 
dark hair, a rather small mouth with thin lips, and a small, 
short-cropped mustache. I can't tell you the exact color of 
his eyes; he wore thick-lensed, horn-rimmed glasses, and his 
eyes were always half-closed. While he might be classed as 
rather a careless dresser, his clothes were of very good material 
and cut. He wasn't at all the usual type of business man — 
rather more like a school-teacher or professor. He certainly 
didn>'t look like a crook?" 

Inspector Stone had listened without comment, but the 
description had struck him clear between the eyes. 

Morton was delineating the (Continued on page 88) 



The "RED ROSE" MURDER 




Something in the enraged man's hand kept jabbing 
at the sailor's stomach as he backed out of the room — 
and the "Red Rose Girl" (Mamie Stephens, photo 
above) stood sick with terror, unable to stop it. 
The sailor -boy who, with a gallant gesture, had just 
put the red rose in her golden hair, was being stabbed 
to death in front of her eyes, and she was 
helpless to aid him.' 



TWENTY-FIVE miles south of Los Angeles lies the Bay 
of San Pedro, now officially known as Los Angeles 
Harbor. Discovered in 1542 — 239 years before the 
City of Los Angeles was founded — by the renowned 
Spanish navigator, Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo, for three hundred 
years San Pedro remained as fashioned by nature: a pic- 
turesque little port with less than two feet of water at the 
harbor entrance at low tide. Fishing and trading in hides 
were the only commercial activities, even as late as the nine- 
teenth century. 

However, during the last twenty years, a huge expenditure 
of Federal and municipal money has enabled engineering 
genius to make of San Pedro Bay one of the finest artificial 
harbors in the world. Leaping into prominence at the close of 
the World War, in various phases of shipping Los Angeles 
Harbor is now rated from first to sixth place among the sea- 
ports of the nation. 

Into her hospitable waters now come ships from all over 
the world — Europe, the Orient, Australia, the Philippine and 
Hawaiian Islands, to moor at her capacious docks, with 
passengers and cargo. The harbor is also the seat of a Govern- 
ment military post — Fort McArthur — and during six months 
of each year is a maneuver base for the Pacific Battle Fleet. 

In April, 1925, I was stationed at the port, detailed to the 
Detective Bureau, then under command of Captain (now 
Chief of Detectives) H. H. Cline. My partner was Detective 
A. J. Farrell, now Captain of Detectives, in command of the 



It is not often a good, true 
detective story has in it the 
ill-fated love and the stark 
tragedy that this one has — 
a case that will cause your 
thoughts to go back to it in 
pity — long after you have 
laid it aside 

By Detective Lieutenant 
R. L. Pruett 

Los Angeles Detective Bureau 

As told to D. L. Michel 



Harbor Division. In addition to the usual problems that 
confront the police department in any teeming industrial city 
of 60,000 population, we encountered others of special diffi- 
culty at San Pedro. 

For instance, there was that problem presented by every 
big seaport the world over, involving the sailors ashore after 
weeks of monotonous ship routine; hale, hearty, high-spirited 
young fellows, craving the most elemental of pleasures: wine 
and women! And at San Pedro, despite all official effort to 
curb these baleful influences, the speak-easy, the dance hall, 
and other even more sinister places of pleasure, flourished in 
response to the sailors' demand. 

A particularly evil condition, since remedied by vigorous 
police action, prevailed in 1925. This was afforded by the 
many drivers of taxicabs and other cars for hire, who infested 
the water-front, lying in wait for the sailor striding merrily 
down the gang-plank, pockets a-jin'gle with silver and wallet 
comfortably lined. 

The driver would approach a group of seamen with a 
knowing smile and oily words regarding the "good time" to be 
had at a certain place, to which he was prepared to transport 
the pleasure-seekers, for a consideration. His offer accepted, 
he whisked his eager fares away to some underworld resort, 
with whose proprietor he had a "business agreement," 
whereby he received a percentage of money spent by the 
patrons he hauled to the place. 

TT was even the custom at that time for such drivers to hand 
out cards to seamen-on-leave. The printed matter on 
these bits of pasteboard would be worded after a fashion 
innocent enough to the uninitiated, but fraught with some 
obscene meaning in the vernacular of the sailor. The results 
of this sinister traffic ranged from brawls in which lusty blows 
were exchanged — with no more serious consequences than a 
small measure of facial damage — to murder and violent deaths. 

The tale I am about to relate here is of one of the most 
tragic of these, with an aftermath, months later, involving as 
tender and pathetic a romance as ever came to my attention 
in my work as a polio; detective. 

45 



46 



True Detective Mysteries 



AT 8 o'clock on ihe morning of April 19th, 1925, Detective 
Farrell and I reported for duty, strolling into the station- 
house laughing and joking, anticipating nothing more than 
the usual rather uneventful Sunday routine. 

However, one glance at the grave face of Captain Cline, 
seated at his desk, gave reason to believe that business of an 
unusual and serious nature was afoot. 

Our commanding officer's first tersely spoken words proved 
this surmise correct. 

"Cicero de Silva, sailor of the S. S. City of Los Angeles, dying 
from knife wound at the Seaside Hospital!" he said crisply. 

And the gesture with which he thrust the short preliminary 
report into my hands was equivalent to the command: 

"Find the murderer — and bring him in!" 

It took only a few moments to glean the facts so far known. 

At 2:15 that morning, R. J. Weston, a watchman on duty at 
Pier A, where the City of Los Angeles, a passenger steamer 
plying between San Pedro and Honolulu, was tied up, had 
observed a taxicab drive out on the dock. 

Four sailors left the vehicle and went aboard the steamer. 
The last man to walk up the gang-plank was staggering, 
Weston noticed, and kept his left hand pressed against his 
stomach. 

A few minutes later, the quartermaster from the vessel 
hurriedly approached Weston, told him there was a man on 
board who had been stabbed, and asked him to telephone the 
police. 

Officers Griffin and Thomas responded. Accompanied by 
Weston, they boarded the City of Los Angeles and there found 
Cicero de Silva lying on a bunk. The young seaman was 
suffering from what appeared to be a knife wound in the 
abdomen. The gash in the muscular tissue was about three- 
fourths of an inch long, and sufficiently deep to expose the 

intestines. 

Officer Thomas ques- 
tioned de Silva. The 
only information the 
wounded man could give 
was that he had been 
"cut by a bootlegger in 
Harbor City." He did 
not know his assailant's 
name, nor the location 
of the place. He did not 
even know he had been 




cut until the wound l>egan to hurt, in the cab en route back to 
the boat! 

Present at that time were the three sailors with whom d< 
Silva had been out that morning. They gave their 1 names as 
F. F. Utrecht, R. J. Kelby and Charles Lane. 

De Silva was taken in a police ambulance to the office of 
Doctor Shirey, in San Pedro. There his wound, the serious 
ness of which was at once recognized by the physician, was 
dressed. By Doctor Shirey's orders, the wounded man had 
then been rushed to Seaside Hospital. 

Within a few minutes after receiving our assignment 
Detective Farrell and I presented ourselves at the hospital, 
to ascertain de Silva's condition and if possible obtain further 
information that would afford a clue to the identity or where- 
abouts of his assailant. 

We were taken to the room where de Silva lay, after Un- 
attending physicians, Doctors Terry and McCoy,- informed 
us that the end was only a question of hours, despite a major 
operation performed in an effort to save the wounded man's 
life. 

1~^K SILVA proved to be a splendid-looking specimen of 
young manhood, with finely cut features, a clear, olive 
skin and a wealth of wavy, black hair. However, the death- 
sweat already bedewed his forehead. His large, dark eyes 
roved unseeingly from face to face as we stood by his bedside, 
and his only spoken words were incoherent mutterings. 

He was, of course, past understanding or answering an\ 
questions, and we were compelled to leave with no additional 
light thrown on the tragedy. 

We at once had the three sailors, Kelby, Utrecht and Lane, 
brought from the steamer to Police Headquarters for question- 
ing. All were deeply affected when told that their comrade 
was dying, and were 
eager enough to tell all 
that they knew. 

In company with de 
Silva, they had left the 
ship shortly after mid- 
night, in quest of a good 
time — meaning liquor 
and girls. To that end, 
they negotiated with a 
taxi driver on Front 
Street, and two men 



(Right) Bird's- 
eye view of the 
Bay of San 
Pedro, known as 
Los Angeles 
Harbor, into 
whose waters 
come commercial 
ships from the 
four corners of 
the earth. It was 
here that the 
S. S. City of Los 
A ngelesi shown 
on opposite 
page) lay in dock 
when the sailor, 
de Silva, left it 
to take his fatal 
ride to Harbor 
City and from 
which, later, a 
message was re- 
layed to the 
police that de 
Silva had re- 
turned, mortally 





(Above) Detec- 
tive Lieutenant 
A. J. Farrel! 
(now Captain of 
Detectives) and 
Detective Lieu 
tenant A.L.Gen- 
try (upper left 
both of whom 
took an active 
part in the de 
Silva case and 
who, togethei 
with Detectiv< 
Lieutenant R. L. 
Pruett (photo 
opposite page 
were officially 
commended by 
Deputy District 
Attorney B. J. 
Scheinman, of 
Los Angeles, 
for their good 
work in this 



■ 



The "Red Rose" Murder 





drove them to a small bungalow, the location of 
which they did not know, but understood to be 
in a district called Harbor City. 

The proprietor of the place was a man whom 
the taxi drivers had addressed as "Jack." 
Drinks had been served. Then came a quarrel 
between Jack and de Silva over a "blonde girl 
with a red rose in her hair," ending in tjie stab- 
bing of de Silva by Jack. Immediately after- 
ward, they had themselves driven 
back to the dock. None realized 
that de Silva was seriously hurt 
until he complained of pain dur- 
ing the ride back to San Pedro. 

(In this last connection, it may 
be noted that German authori- 
ties maintain that the only sensa- 
tion experienced by the victim of 
a bullet or sharp-pointed weapon 
driven with great force, at the 
moment either pierces his body, 
is that of having received a vio- 
lent push.) 

We took Utrecht, Kelby and 
Lane down to the water-front 
with a view to finding the two 
taxi drivers. It was not long be- 
fore they pointed out Perry Card and Arthur Densmore, both 
well known to us as drivers in the employ of James Valenti, 
owner of a small fleet of taxicabs. We escorted them both to 
the police station for interrogation. 

" A RT" DENSMORE, a sparely built young man with an 
rT - unhealthy pallor and a pair of cold, cynical eyes, ad- 
mitted with manifest reluctance that he and Perry Card had 
driven four sailors to Harbor City shortly after midnight. 

"To what address?" Farrell demanded. 

He gave the number, unwillingly, as 2320 251st Street. 

"Is that a bootleg joint?" I 

"Oh, I guess maybe it is." 

"Who runs the place?" 

"A fellow named Jack." 

"Jack— what?" 

"Don't know 
vincing reply. 



Detective Lieutenant R. L. Pruett, who gave this 
inside story of the "Red Rose" murder to TRUE 
Detective Mysteries, and whose work on the 
important case cannot be too highly commended 



S. S. City of Los Angeles, plying between San Pedro 
and Honolulu. At 2:15 A.M. on the morning of 
April I9th, 1925, a night watchman observed four 
sailors going aboard this steamer, in dock at Pier A, 
Los Angeles Harbor — the last of the four (de Silva) 
staggering— with his hand pressed to his side. Shortly 
thereafter a phone message summoned detectives — 
the big man-hunt was on for the mysteri- 
ous attacker of the dying man 



"You don't, eh? Well, maybe 
you'll remember it before you get 
out of here! What happened out 
there at Jack's place?" 

"Nothing, so far as I know. 
We took the bunch out there and 
I left 'em, with Card. About two 
o'clock he phoned in for me to 
come out and bring 'em back. I 
went over. Card drove the sailors 
into town. When they left Harbor 
City, that was the last I saw of 
'em. I came back later, alone." 

UE continued to give evasive 
* * answers to our questions, and 
I was at length called- to the tele- 
phone in an adjoining room. I 
returned a few moments later with 
I was certain would unseal the lips of 



was the laconic and uncon- 



an announcement that 
our reticent witness. 

"Bad news has just come from the hospital. Cicero de 
Silva is . . . dead!" 

With the words, I held Densmore's eyes with a steady gaze, 
observing his nervous start, the sudden twitching of his lips. 

"Now come clean with all you know about this business," 
I went on, sternly, "or we'll book you as accessory to a 
murder!" 

"I — well, let me think . . ." 

"Think fast!" Farrell snapped. 

Arthur Densmore did just that, and when I once more de- 
manded the name of the man to whose house he had driven 
the sailors, he answered promptly : 

"Earl Clark. Earl Jack Clark!" 

Farrell smiled grimly. We both instantly recognized the 
name. An "Earl Jack Clark" was represented in our files by 
a criminal record as long as it was dark — if this man was the 



48 



•tective Mysteries 



same! Assault had been the most serious charge against him. 

Then, briefly and graphically, Arthur Densmore, the taxi 
driver, told his story. 

He admitted a rather lengthy acquaintance with Clark; 
also, the (act that the latter had recently rented a house in 
Harbor City, for the purpose of bootlegging to the sailor 
trade; further, that he, Densmore, had entered into a "busi- 
ness agreement" with Clark, to bring "trade" to the place in 
return for a money consideration. 

After driving the sailors to Clark's house the previous 
night, he had returned alone to San Pedro by street-car. 
About 1:20 A. M., at his taxi stand, he had a telephone call 
from Card: 

"Come right out, Art! They're having trouble!" 

Densmore at once drove back to Harbor City in his own 
car. Turning into the driveway beside Clark's house, he heard 
loud voices inside, apparently raised in a quarrel. He drove 
his taxi into the garage, entered the house by the back door, 
and walked through the bathroom into the bedroom. 

There he was startled to see the sailor, de Silva, backed 
against the foot of the bed, with Jack Clark standing before 
him in a threatening attitude. Leaning against the dresser, 
with disheveled clothing and tear-stained face, was Clark's 
girl, known to Densmore as "Mamie." Even in that tense 
moment, Densmore was struck by the sight of a great red 
rose in her hair. 

As Densmore Stepped for- 
ward to ask the cause of the 
trouble, de Silva started to- 
ward the door leading into the 
living-room. Clark seized 
the sailor by the shoulder 
with his left hand and shook 
him roughly. De Silva con- 
tinued to retreat backward 
toward the door. 

"JJAMN you!" Clark 
shouted and his right 
hand darted into his hip 
pocket and jerked forth what 
Densi'iore thought for a 
moment was a gun. "I'm 

going to kill you, you " 

The girl, Mamie, ran for- 
ward and tried to snatch from 
Clark's right hand the object 
he was holding behind him. 
With an oath, he thrust her 
back, and she ran screaming 
from the room. 

And then, according to 
Densmore's statement, be- 
fore he could interfere, Clark 
shoved de Silva, empty hands 
upraised in helpless protest, 
across the threshold into the 
adjoining room, at the same 
time jabbing swiftly at the 
sailor's stomach with the ob- 
ject in his right hand. 

Densmore hurriedly fol- 
lowed the two men into the living-room. There he heard the 
sailor, Utrecht, demand of Clark, who was standing with his 
right hand hidden under his coat: 

"What's the matter with you, anyway?" 

With a low growl, Clark seized the lapel of Utrecht's coat. 

"You , are you looking for some of this, too?" — 

with a menacing gesture toward his right hip pocket. 

"Come on, Utrecht," de Silva hastily interposed. 

"We came here for a good time " Utrecht protested, 

addressing Clark. 

"Well, you've had it!" the latter interrupted, savagely. 
"Now get to hell out of here!" 



Without further parley, Utrecht and de Silva made for the 
rear yard. As Densmore started to follow, he glanced back 
and caught a glimpse of Clark in the act of wiping the blade 
of a knife on the leg of his trousers. 

As the four seamen got into Perry Card's car to return to 
San Pedro, Densmore asked de Silva if he were hurt. The 
sailor replied in the negative. Densmore was later informed 
by Card, however, that he had not driven more than a mile 
liefore de Silva doubled over in agony, and declared that he 
had been stabbed. 

In the meanwhile, as the girl, Mamie, huddled sobbing 
on the back steps, Densmore started to back his 6wn car out 
of the garage. At that moment Clark ran from the house. 

"'lATHFRE the hell are you going?" he demanded of 
Densmore. 
"Home," the driver answered shortly. 
"You'll have to take Mamie and me along!" 
"Can't do it. My wife wouldn't stand for it!" 
"I don't give a damn!" Clark bellowed. "We're going with 
you! You brought that bunch out here and you're in on this' 
Now get out of that car and help me get my stuff together!" 

For reasons best known to himself, Densmore decided to 
do as bidden, and followed Clark and the girl into the house. 
There Clark began to rush around like a madman, throwing 

clothing into a card 
board box. Once, Dens- 
more heard the girl 
scream at Clark : 

"Jack, did you stab 
that boy with the 
butcher knife?" 

Clark's answer was a 
foul oath, as he struck 
the girl in the face with 
his fist. She fell across 
the bed unconscious, 
and the blood-red petals 




(Above) Clark's home at 
2320 251st Street, Harbor 
City. "Damn you . . . 
I'm going to kill you, 
you — !" threatened the 
killer in the bedroom 
(window of which is on 
the right) while the "Red 
Rose Girl," trembling in 
terror, futilely tried to 
avert the crime that was 
about to be committed. 
Detective Lieut. Farrell 
stands at the left, the man 
on the right being Lieut. 
Pruett. (Right) Side view 
of the house, showing the 
bedroom and bathroom 
windows 





of the rose in her hair scattered over the white counterpane. 

"For God's sake, Clark!" Densmore remonstrated, and 
started to go to the girl's assistance. 

"Get out of here and mind your own business!" growled 
Clark. 

He picked up the girl's limp body, carried her outside and 
placed her on the back seat of Densmore's car; then hurried 
back for the box. 

Just as Clark was about to get into the car beside the girl, 
Densmore saw him throw something into the weeds across 
the yard: As Clark slammed the door of the taxi, Densmore 
heard him say to the girl, now recovering her senses: 



The "Red Rose" Murder 49 



"They'll never find, that knife! I broke the blade and 
threw it out in the grass!" 

Densmore drove the pair to his home in Torrance, a small 
town two miles from Harbor City, where, in the fortunate 
absence of Mrs. Densmore, the three talked, drank coffee and 
smoked for about an hour. Once, according to Densmore's 
statement, Clark said to the girl : 

"You shouldn't have said anything about a butcher knife! 
Someone might have heard you, and thought I used one." 

Densmore then asked: 

"Are you sure you didn't cut that boy?" 

"Hell, no!" was the ready response. "The damn knife was 
dull. I only cut his clothes. It didn't hurt him any !" 

He wanted to remain undercover for a while at the Dens- 



> 

x 
H 



r 
o 

1 




To get information on this point, we had James Valenti, 
owner of the fleet of taxicabs, brought in. 

We found the attitude of that individual toward the authori- 
ties decidedly hostile, as might be expected of one whose 
affiliations with the underworld were so close! In short, after 
beating about the bush for some time, he finally flatly refused 
to cooperate with us. 

It was then sternly impressed upon him that his operator's 
license, and those of his men, Densmore and Card, would be 
unceremoniously and permanently revoked, when it was 
shown that they were aiding the escape of fugitives from 
justice. 

Valenti, convinced that he had nothing to gain and much 
to lose by continued reticence, then told us that Clark had 
come to his place that morning, and 
asked for help in getting out of the 
harbor^tlistrict with his girl. At the 
same time, he took back a .32- 
caliber Savage automatic which he 
had left in Valenti's keeping some 
time before. 

Valenti had communicated by 
telephone with one of his drivers, 
named Bud Thomas, and asked him 
to help Clark get out of San Pedro. 
Thomas later told htm that he had 
arranged with a friend, one Alfred 
Butts, to drive Clark and the 
Stephens girl to Los Angeles. 

Two officers were promptly de- 
tailed to locate Alfred Butts and 
bring him to Headquarters for 
questioning. 



-BURNED "RUBBISH 

ion — KNiSel 
HANDLE W 

This diagram of Clark's home was personally drawn by Lieutenant Pruett, shows the plan 
of the rooms and will help the reader to understand just what happened, as the story un- 
folds. "X," in the bedroom, marks the spot where the stabbing occurred as Clark was 
backing de Silva toward the door to the living-room, while the "Red Rose Girl" stood, 
screaming, just outside the door 



more place, a suggestion which the taxi driver turned down 
flatly. Clark than offered him $25 to drive him to Los Angeles, 
which Densmore also refused to do. 

"Well, take me into San Pedro, anyway! I want to see an 
Italian friend there. If 1 can get a gun from him, I'll be 
better off. He'll take us out and ditch us somewhere until 
this blows over." 

About 6 in the morning, after giving Clark and the girl per- 
mission to leave their box in his house, Densmore started to 
drive them to San Pedro. En route he ran out of gas, where- 
upon the fugitives accepted a "lift" to the harbor from a pass- 
ing motorist. 

That was the last Art Densmore had seen of Clark and 
Mamie. 

After hearing Densmore's story, we had no doubt that Clark 
had appealed to other of his taxi-driver friends to take him out 
of San Pedro, or into some local hide-out. 



TN the meanwhile, Detectives Far- 
rell, A. L. Gentry and I, accom- 
panied by Art Densmore, drove out 
to Clark's bungalow at 2320 251st 
Street, Harbor City. 

The disorder inside the cottage 
attested to the haste with which its 
late occupants had abandoned it. 
Densmore indicated to us the posi- 
tions held by Clark, de Silva and 
the girl as they played their tragic 
rfiles in the sordid drama. 

Scattered over the white bed- 
quilt, the half-withered petals of a 
rose still glowed crimson, like 
splashes of blood. There were 
blood stains on the carpet in the 
living-room. 

Outside, Densmore indicated the 
point on the driveway where his car 
was parked, at the time Clark, 
standing by the rear door, had 
thrown something into the grass. 
About forty feet from this spot, we found the black wooden 
handle of a small butcher knife. 

The blade had been pulled from the handle. Although the 
premises were thoroughly searched at this time and afterward, 
and quantities of rubbish in the yard, some partly burned, 
were painstakingly sifted, the bit of glittering steel, predes- 
tined instrument of so much of sorrow and death, was never 
found! 

Upon our return to the police station, we found Alfred 
Butts awaiting us. 

He identified the gallery picture of Earl Jack Clark, sent 
down from the identification bureau in Los Angeles, as that of 
the man he had driven to Los Angeles that morning, at the 
request of Bud Thomas. Clark had been accompanied by a 
blonde girl. Also, Butts had noticed the bulge of a gun in his 
pocket. 

They had hardly reached Los Angeles before Clark abruptly 



50 



True Detective Mysteries 



decided that he didn't want to remain in that city, and ordered 
Butts to drive out to Culver City, a pretty little suburb about 
ten miles west of I^os Angeles. 

The trio had lunch in Culver City, then, at Clark's sugges- 
tion, rode around the streets for some time. Finally Clark 
rented a small bungalow on Overland Avenue, where Butts 
shortly afterward left the couple. 

Asked if he could take us to the house rented by Clark, 
Butts stated that he could do so. 

nTHERK was no time to lose, and as swiftly as arrangements 
*■ could be made, I, with Officers Farrell, Gentry, Beeson, 
Swindle, Wilmore and Baldwin, left San Pedro for Culver 
City. We went in numbers, prepared for desperate resistance 
on the part of the fugitive, who might well be expected to shoot 
to kill. ( 

According to- Art Densmore, Clark was a native of Okla- 
homa, with a strong strain of Indian blood in his ancestry. 
To quote Densmore, Clark, while "an awfully nice fellow," 
was given to explosions of homicidal rage, out of all proportion 
to the mere spark that seemed to suffice to set them off. 
Moreover, his ix>lice record was marked by a trail of arrests 
extending from Florida to the State of Washington, and in- 
cluded the cities of Jacksonville, Atlanta, Omaha, San 
Antonio, El Paso, Dallas, Rosewell (New Mexico), San Fran- V 
cisco, Spokane, Seattle, Portland, and Long Beach (Cali- 
fornia). His offenses were varied, from liquor smuggling to 
forgery, and there were several ominous instances of assault 
with a deadly weapon. He had also served a term in Oregon 
State Penitentiary. 

Thus we had no reason to believe that Earl Jack Clark, 
armed as we knew him to 
be, facing a charge of mur- 
der, with a penitentiary 
record against him, was a 
man to suffer himself to be 
led away like a lamb to the 
slaughter! 

It was about 10 P. M. 
when we left our police 
cars a short distance from 
the bungalow in Culver 
City designated by Alfred 
Butts as the one rented 
that morning by Clark. 
Quietly, we approached 
the house. 

It was a small, frame 
dwelling, with one large 
window on each side of the 
front door. While two 
officers went to the rear, 
to block any attempt to 
escape by the back door, I 
peered through the east 
front window, the curtain 
of which was raised. 

By a dim light, I saw ly- 
ing in bed a man whom I 
recognized from his pic- 
tures as Earl Clark. 

Farrell knocked loudly 
on the front door. Clark 
sprang from the bed, and 
without stopping to dress, 
rushed out into the little 
vestibule. As he threw 
open the door, Farrell said 
sharply : 

"Police officers! Put 'em 

u P r 

1 was standing close by, 
and saw the look of sur- 
prise and dismay that 




flashed across Clark's face as he stared into the barrel of the 
officer's drawn gun. Then, mechanically raising his hands, 
he backed quietly into the house. 

As I was alx>ut to follow, 1 saw a uniformed officer passing 
the house, ancl called to him to join us. He was Patrolman 
W. W. Schrye'r. 

"What have you got on this man?" he asked, as he accom- 
panied us into the room where Clark was standing. 

"We want him for murder — m-u-r-d-e-r — and we spell it 
with a capital M," Gentry said grimly. 

For an instant Clark seemed to wilt, and his swarthy face 
paled. 

' "Is — is that boy dead?" he stammered. 
"He is," Gentry answered, laconically. 
A crafty gleam crept into Clark's eves. 
"Well," he grunted, "if he's dead, 1 didn'l kill him! He 
had it coming but he got it somewhere else!" And he coolly 
set about obeying our order to dress. 

"Have you a gun in the house?" Gentry demanded. 
"Yes, Officer," the prisoner answered readily and with un- 
expected amiability. "Right there in that dresser drawer." 
Gentry retrieved a Savage automatic from the place indicated, 
and marked it as evidence. "And there's a jack-knife in the 
pocket of that sweater," Clark added, as I started to hand 
him the garment in question. The knife was removed and 
properly labeled. 

Then Clark, his hurried dressing completed, calmly ex- 
tended his wrists for the handcuffs. 

"Well, Earl," Farrell remarked, as he snapped the steel 
bracelets together, "you certainly showed good judgment in 
not putting up a fight! Saves us all a lot of trouble." 

The prisoner smiled. 
"Oh, I'm a peaceable 
man to-night," he de- 
clared. "Besides, I know 
when I'm well off. I'm not 
a damn fool. And I want 
you boys to know that I 
don't blame you! You're 
only doing your duty." 
Here an ugly scowl dark- 
ened his face. "This is 
what a man gets for trying 
to protect his home ! When 
that water-rat stuck that 
rose in my girl's hair, 1 
guess I saw red! I tried 
to throw him out — but 1 
didn't kill him!" 



TN the meanwhile the 
*■ girl, Mamie, found 
asleep in another room, had 
been aroused and ordered 
to dress. At this juncture, 
she joined us. It is not too 
much to say that we were 
all startled by her ap 
pearance. 

Densmore had told us 
that he thought her age 
was seventeen, a fact which 
was later established by 
her birth-record. She 
proved to be heavily built, 
with a florid complexion, 
rather prominent blue eyes, 
and a profusion of silky 
golden hair. Physical de- 
velopment and facial ex- 
pression suggested 
a woman of thirty, how- 
ever, rather than a girl of 



The stately Hall of Justice, of Los Angeles County. On March 
16th, 1926, at 8 A.M., six desperate criminals made their escape 
from the prisoners' tank on the 1 1th floor, marked by arrow No. I. 
"Gang him, boys!" came the shout as the cons attacked the turn- 
key, Daniels, bound, gagged and knocked him unconscious, smashed 
out the window marked by arrow No. 2, crawled along the outside 
of the building at perilous risk of their lives, creeping back into it 
through window marked No. 3, then on down, as per the dotted 
line, by way of an inside fire-escape, and calmly walked out onto 
the street, unobtrusively mingling with the crowd ! Earl J. Clark 
was one of these six jailbreakers, and it was he who had made the 
•grim boast: "I'll never hang for the murder of de Silva!" 



The "Red Rose" Murder 



51 



"Peace be with 
each and every 
one of you!" With 
these words, Earl 
J. Clark made 
ready to face his 
Maker. This re- 
markable photo- 
graph of him 
(right) was made 
on his own earnest 
plea to be taken in 
his street clothes, so 
a copy could be sent 
to his wife and one 
to his friend, Dep- 
uty Sheriff John- 
son. It was made 
about one hour be- 
fore he mounted 
the "thirteen steps" 
to the scaffold, to 
meet his death 



As we made ready to escort her and 
Clark out to the well-loaded police 
car, the girl flashed a defiant look at 
her lover, which said plainly enough : 

"I told you 
so!" 

His answer 
was a glance of 
wafning and an 
almost imper- 
ceptible shake of 
the head. 

At San Pedro 
Headquarters, 
Clark was im- 
mediately con- 
fronted with the 
sailors, Utrecht, 
Kelby and Lane, 
one by one. 
Each sailor iden- 
tified him as the 
"bootlegger in 
Harbor City" 
who had quar- 
r e 1 e d w i th 
Cicero de Silva 
that morning. Clark, on 
the other hand, calmly 
denied that he had ever 
seen the sailors before. 

Mamie Stephens — the 
"Red Rose Girl," as she 
was even then being bla- 
zoned in newspaper head- 
lines—next gave her state- 
ment, in Clark's presence. 

JT appeared that she had 
run away from her home 
in Los Angeles about six 
months before, and trav- 
eled to Tucson, Arizona, 
with another girl and two 
men of questionable char- 
acter. While working as a 
waitress in a little cafe in 
Tucson, she had met Earl 
Clark. 

The big ex-convict was 
attracted by her opulent 
charms. He was then 
flush with money, and 
along with an irresistible 
line of love-making, gave 
her a royal good time. 
Foolishly infatuated, she 
consented to return with 
him to California, travel- 
ing in a car with certain 
mutual friends. 

She insisted that Clark 
had promised to marry her, 
but as they drifted from 
one apartment to another 
in San Pedro and the neigh- 
boring city of Long Beach, 
he made no move to keep 
any such pledge. On the 
contrary, he finally set him- 
self up as a bootlegger in 
Harbor City, and when- 
ever business slumped and 
he lacked funds to replenish 




(Below) Photo- 
graph of Clark after 
his capture at 
Minot, North 
Dakota, showing 
him as he was 
leaving the jail at 
Minot, to entrain 
for California. On 
the left is Deputy 
Sheriff Johnson, 
on the right, Dep- 
uty Sheriff Heller, 
both of Los Angeles. 
In the left back- 
ground is the Sheriff 
of Ward County, 
N. D.; in the right 
background, Police 
Officer Hartigan. 
The insert is a 
"mug" photo of 
Clark which is a 
good character 
study of him 




his stock of illicit beverages, he com- 
pelled the girl, she said, despite her 
first tears and protests, to sell her 
favors to the men who came to the 
place, while he 
used the money 
so earned in the 
"business." 

"Mamie, you 
ought to be 
ashamed of 
yourself — to tell 
such a lie as 
that!" Clark 
here interrupted, 
more in con- 
tempt than 
anger. 

"Be quiet, 
Clark," I 
warned him. 
"Now, Mamie!" 
I turned again 
to the girl. 
''This man 
wasn't holding 
you prisoner, 
was he?" She shook her 
head. "Then why didn't 
you leave his place? Why 
did you stay?" 

"Oh," she answered 
simply, "because I loved 
him so!" 

There was, of course, no 
comment to be made upon 
this peculiar feminine rea- 
soning, which we had so 
often encountered in the 
course of criminal investiga- 
tions; and the Stephens girl 
was then asked to tell us 
what had happened at 
Clark's house in the early 
morning hours of the 19th. 

It appeared that business 
had not been so good, and 
Clark had been in an ugly 
mood for several hours 
before the arrival of de 
Silva's party. Funds were 
low, and he had ordered 
Mamie to "be good" to 
any patron who sought her 



S -.23. 00 /" 



, rw. muHOMio twfhtv rnmit .* it • . m 



(Above) 



Photograph of check sent by Deputy Sheriffs Heller and 
and other employees of the Los Angeles County Jail, to 
the widow of Earl J. Clark, after his execution 



/~\NE of de Silva s friends 
" had availed himself of 
this opportunity. Mamie 
was weeping when he went 
to rejoin the group drink- 
ing in the parlor. The girl 
heard him say to his com-, 
panions: 

"It's a damned shame! 
Why, that poor kid's 
crying!" 

At that tihie Clark was 
somewhere in the rear of 
the house getting an addi- 
tional supply of whisky 
Cicero de Silva then went ' 
into the bedroom. 
(.Continued on page 93)- 



What It Means to Be 

Police Commissioner 



INHERE are approximately 18,000 police on the New York force, including nearly 1,000 detectives in the 
1st, 2nd, and 3rd grades, this army of trained men being directed by Commissioner Whalen through five 
Deputy Police Commissioners, one Chief Inspector and eight Deputy Chief Inspectors. It goes without 
saying that the Commissioner's job is a difficult one, being second only in importance to that of the Mayor 
in the world's greatest city. Just what some of the problems are that confront the Commissioner as this 
goes to press, and how he is dealing with them, will be brought out in this interview. 



NEW YORK'S crookdom chortled when the suave, 
smiling, meticulously dressed "official greeter" to 
visiting celebrities, Grover A. Whalen, was sworn in 
last December as Police Commissioner, to head the 
greatest metropolitan police force in the world. 

The last thing the underworld expected was the dynamic 
tactics that started before the acrid odor of the news photog- 
rapher's flash-light powder had died away or the welcoming 
bouquets had faded in the new Commissioner's private office 
at Police Headquarters. 

Exactly nine hundred and ninety-six criminals' nests were 
raided, in the ensuing days, by his "gunmen squads." Cribs, 
speak-easies, tenements, pool-rooms and bath-houses, yielded 
thousands of men with police records. 

The chuckles turned into snarls and whines. Not gangland 
alone was flabbergasted. Certain magistrates, even, joined 
in the sob act, and scores of back-seat drivers, those yapping 
critics who tell how to do things from a safe distance, bom- 
barded the new Commissioner with advice on how to run his 
department on more scientific and less strong-arm lines. 

After things had settled down a bit, 1 called on Commis- 
sioner Whalen one afternoon to find out for the readers of 
True Detective Mysteries what effect his drastic measures 
had had on crime in New York, what plans he had made to 
curb it duriug his regime, and what his chief problems were. 

Even the- 
Commissioner's 
most carping 
cri tics — and 
every police 
commissioner 
without excep- 
tion has had 
vociferously 
articulate carp- 
ing critics — 
admit that he 
did a remark- 
ably expeditious 
and efficient job 
in instilling dis- 
c i p 1 i n e and 
alertness in the 
police force. 
This is nowhere 
more visible 
than at Police 
Headquarters it- 
self, where 
everyone, no 
matter what the 
object of his call 
may be, is given 

52 



prompt and courteous attention. This I observed when I 
arrived in the waiting-room fifteen minutes ahead of the 
hour of my appointment. 

It was the tail end of a hot and humid day. 

"Will ten minutes be enough for your interview?" the 
secretary who had arranged my engagement asked me. 

"I don't believe so," I replied dubiously. "Why?" 

"The Commissioner was out on a murder case all last 
night," he said, "and didn't get home before dawn. Then, 
since nine o'clock, he's been seeing people every minute. 
So, make it as short as you can!" 

Without making any promise, 1 entered Mr. Whalen's 
private office. It is a very large room with a high ceiling. 
Ranged around the walls are several leather-upholstered 
mahogany chairs used for conferences. About three feet 
away from the Commissioner's huge mahogany desk is the 
visitor's chair. 

T FOUND the Commissioner seated at his desk busily 
A signing a pile of letters. In spite of the long day, the heat 
and the humidity, he looked as fresh and immaculate as il 
he had stepped out of the proverbial bandbox. There was 
no empty gesture of profound concentration nor any attitude, 
so often assumed by smaller police officials, of having "not a 
minute to spare." He radiated an air of inexhaustible energ\ 

He immedi 
a t e 1 y rose, 
1) o w e d wit h 
rather severe 
precision (a re- 
flection of his 
military train- 
ing), and then 
we both sat 
down and 
plunged into a 
discussion of the 
problems of 
N e w York's 
Police Depart - 
.ment. 

"What ef- 
fect," I asked 
him, "did your 
clean-up cam 
paign have on 
the crime situa- 
tion?" 

The whole- 
sale arrests, h<- 
e x p I a i n e d 
briefly, broughi 
in a large num 




Former Governor Alfred E. Smith, late Democratic Presidential candidate, with Mayor 
I Commissioner Whalen, reviewing the police parade at Fifth Avenue and 62nd 
Street held in May of this year 



By Joan Brand 

of NEW YORK 




A company of honor men of New York's "Finest" passing up Fifth Avenue, at 29th Street 



ber of men who had "wanted" cards on them. That is, 
they were wanted for violation of their parole and other 
offenses. Out-of-town vagrants, who were unable to show 
the magistrates that they had been employed regularly 
during the months they had been in New York, composed 
another group of undesirables who fell into the net. Confi- 
dence men who had been "hanging a front" in hotel lounges 
were also brought in by these drives, and so on. 

The violators of parole and other offenses were sent to jail, 
as were also the out-of-town vagrants; and the confidence 
men had it brought home to them that they could not hang 
around with impunity. 

"Proving to criminals that New York is not a comfortable 
hang-out for them," the Commissioner said, "and that the 
police are likely to pick them up at any time and force them 
into the line-up, is just as good for our purpose as sending 
them to jail. 

"ITNUER a recent decision rendered by the Court of 
Appeals of the State of New York, the police can use 
as much force as they think necessary in destroying places 
that are known to be the hang-outs of criminals and that 
consequently can be handled as 'criminal nuisances.' " 

At this point I brought up the subject of the advice handed 
out by the back-seat drivers. 

"Would crime be kept better under control in New York 
City if the Police Commissioner were appointed for life, as 
he is in many European capitals?" I asked. 

"The chiefs of Scotland Yard are not nominated for life," 



he countered. "They are thrown out of office by the Govern- 
ment at any time they happen to displease officials, just as 
the Mayor of New York City may at any time force the resig- 
nation of a police commissioner here during his six-year 
term. Anyway," he added grimly, "I don't believe any man 
would want the job of Polioe Commissioner of New York 
City for life! He has the responsibility of guarding the peace 
and comfort of about seven million people without receiving 
much cooperation from them. For instance — a complaint 
comes in. The police make an arrest. The complainant 
is called to appear in court and — the police are requested to 
'forget it.' The average citizen dislikes going to court. It 
interferes with his business. 

" A MAN who is fit to be Police Commissioner of New 
York City has to make many personal sacrifices — of 
health, his private social life, and financial opportunities. 
He has to stand for constant criticism from |)eop!e who are 
without any qualifications for the r61e of critic of the De- 
partment — people who are quite ignorant of police pro- 
cedure. 

"The other day, for instance, in arraigning the Police 
Department, one man stated that in the first three months 
of this year there had been only one conviction for murder 
in the first degree. Now, when our men make an arrest in a 
murder case, it is the District Attorney who decides the 
degree of crime that has been committed. If, when the cast; 
goes to trial, he thinks it is to the advantage of the County 
to accept a lesser plea, that is entirely up to him. 



S3 



54 



True Detective Mysteries 



"I don't mind constructive criticism, but a very false idea 
of the efficiency of my men is given by such men as this who 
set themselves up as judges and are so obviously ignorant of 
even the rudiments of police procedure. 

"You cannot judge of the crime conditions in a city, as so 
many do, by the number of murders committed in it. For 
example, the bulk of murders this year have been caused by 
family affairs, jealousy, business disputes and drunken 




What made this murder the more atrocious was the fact that 
Mrs. Howe's nine-year-old daughter had run down, when she 
heard her mother's screams, and saw her murdered." 

Two other "family murders" that gained considerable 
front-page space were one committed by a young Columbia 
University student who recently killed his mother and sister, 
and that of Louis Fidele, of Brooklyn, who murdered his 
wife, Mary, and a young druggist, Samuel Ruisi, who oper- 
ated a store below the Fidele apartment. 

Those three murders are similar to many 
others which are examples of cases where the 
detectives' reports evidenced premeditation, 
but as it is not within the province of the Police 
Department to judge the degree of crime, Mr. 
VVhalen explained, the police were not in any 
way responsible for the manner in which they 
were classified. 

"D EVERTING to the back-seat driver-critics, 
the Commissioner went on: "The problems 
of the European police are entirely different 
from ours. Italy is the only country that has 
organized bandits similar to those we liave to 
contend with here. The other police systems 
have usually only one criminal, or a criminal 
and one or two associates, to handle in any one 
case. 

"At one time detectives in the United States 
had to deal with criminals as brainy and daring 
as any in the world. Though the police were 
always on their trail, they had a sort of admira- 



While Commissioner Whalcn listens approvingly. 
Mayor Walker speaks a few words of commenda- 
tion to Officer McDonald, whose bravery and 
efficiency have won him more honor medals 
than any other officer on the Force. (Right) 
Commissioner Whalen, even in his moments of 
relaxation, "keeps his eye on the ball," as this 
picture shows, taken of him at bat in the Base- 
ball Writers' game with the Friars' Club, at the 
Polo Grounds in June of this year 



brawls. We will always have these so long as 
the world goes round, and no police department 
can prevent them. 

"One night around midnight I was notified 
that a man, George Taylor, had killed a woman, 
Mrs. Edna Howe, of Flatlands Avenue, Brook- 
lyn. I arrived there half an hour after the 
crime was committed. Taylor and another jnan 
were in the kitchen. We learned that the 
dead woman was a widowed mother with three 
children. 

"'TAYLOR had been her admirer. He had 
had dinner with her and her family. Then, 
after the children were in bed, he and Mrs. 
Howe had started drinking. She mentioned a 
rival's name, and left him sitting in the sun 
porch, saying she was going to telephone to the 
other man. He walked to the kitchen and got 
three knives. He selected one which was about 
seven inches long, and cut the woman's jugular 
vein and then stuck the knife up to its hilt 
into her body. When we got there, the knife 
was still in the body with the hilt broken off. 
The other two knives were hidden in an overstuffed lounge. 

"Taylor was of the cunning type. He tried to pretend 
that he was too drunk to know what happened. But he was 
only too drunk to put this over cleverly. He asked, 'Is she 
dead?' and 'Is this Police Headquarters?' It was about the 
silliest attempt to fake irresponsibility I have ever seen. 




tion for their skill and had to use their wits to beat them. 

"To-day the great majority of criminals in this city are 
brainless thugs and jackals who usually confine their killings 
to their own gangs and their rivals. 

"The larger gangs here have affiliations in Chicago, Phila- 
delphia, Buffalo, Kansas City, St. (Continued on page 100) 



The Clue of the GRAY HAT 



"Bill's th'guy what lost that hat!" 
Seven whispered words! Would 
they lift the black veil of mystery 
that protected the real murderer 
of Memphis' "Hot Tamale King"? 



THE story so far: 
John E. Levy, 
famous Southern 
sportsman — who 
had earned a 
modest fortune in 
the hot tamale 
business, winning 
through his success 
as a manufacturer 
of the fiery Mexican 
delicacy the title, 
"Hot Tamale 
King" — is myster- 
iously assassinated 
by unknown gun- 
men the night of 
November 21st, 
1927. 

The genial sports- 
man has just driven 
into the garage in 
the rear of his luxu- 
rious home in Mem- 
phis, Tennessee, 
when the gruff com- 
mand is barked at 
him: 

"Put 'em up!" 
He hesitates ... a 
gun cracks . . . and 
his body falls, inert, 
while three shadows 
the 




(Above) Detective 
Solomon with his 
trained police horse. 
Between these two 
there is a genuine 
affection. [Left 
Front view of John 
E. Levy's residence 
on North Ever- 
green Street, Mem- 
phis, back of which 
the "Hot Tamale 
King" was ruth- 
lessly shot to death 
in the doorway of 
his garage on the 
night of November 
21st, 1927 



slink off into 
darkness. . . . 

A gray, felt hat, site 7 1-8, found later 
near the garage, is the only clue to the 
identity of the murderers. 

Officer Solomon, temporarily trans- 
ferred from the uniformed ranks to the 
detective division, is given the mur- 
derer's hat and told to go out and find 
the man — among more than 200,000 
persons! — who had run from under 
that hat on the night of the murder. 

He soon picks up a tip that leads him to suspect an underworld 
character named "Charcoal Johnny." 

Running Charcoal Johnny to bay in a ramshackle tenement, 
Solomon leaps through a window into Johnny's darkened room. 

He pauses, finger on trigger 

Officer Solomon continues his story, in his own words: 

Part Two 

A SUDDEN draft of wind caught the shade behind the 
open window, through which I had so rudely landed 
in the august presence of Charcoal Johnny, and 
enough sunlight was admitted to give me a clear vision 
of my sordid surroundings. A quick glance around the room 
gave no indication of my armed host. But the bare furnish- 
ings brought to view only one possible hiding-place — tha bed 
back in a corner. 

I knew that the tall man I had seen coatless and hatless 
when I leaped into the dingy apartment was no phantom, and 
his sudden and silent vanishing didn't proclaim him the bold 
gunman I had thought I was bearding in his den. It was 
turning out ludicrously like the old fable of "the grizzly bear 



By Detective Sergeant 
Morris Solomon 

Memphis Police Department 

As told to Homer G. Wells 



transformed into a harmless hare." 

"Come on out from under that 
bed, you rascal! I've got you 
covered!" I exclaimed, not knowing 
positively that my surmise was 
correct. 

"Don't shoot! I'm coming out!" 
Charcoal Johnny's voice feebly 
responded from the depths under the bed. 

"Slide that toy you've got under there out ahead of you," 
I told him. "It might get unruly if you keep holding on to it!" 

The little .32-caliber revolver skidded out on the floor just 
ahead of the wriggling figure of the man. 

I picked up the gun and stuck it in my pocket. Then, 
reaching for the fluttering shade, with a finger still close to 
the trigger of my own pistol, I flung the blind up to where it 
let in a steady stream of light. That helped relieve the tense 
situation. 

T LOOKED Charcoal Johnny over as he got to his feet, and 
* he came up staring at me with his little, red-rimmed eyes." 
His long face looked pale and ashen, a«d the upper part of 
his body, being clothed only in a sleeveless undershirt, made 
him appear very tall and thin. He was about thirty years old, 
and seemed to fit the description of the tallest of the wanted 
trio to a "T," I decided. 

"Get your coat and hat, and put on a shirt if you want to, 
before we start to Police Head- (Continued on page 107) 




An informal snap-shot of Charles Henry Schwartz, the 
i of mystery" 



A TERRIFIC explosion rocked a chemist's laboratory 
at the little town of Walnut Creek, California, on the 
evening of July 30th, 1925. 

So great was the concussion that it seemed as if a 
war-time bomb had exploded, shattering windows and dishes 
in near-by houses and frightening the residents throughout a 
wide area. Red flames shot high in the dark sky after the 
blast, and the laboratory became a raging inferno. 

Excited spectators, many of them half-clad after jumping 
from their beds, ran to the scene of the disaster. Shrill cries 
rent the air when it was discovered that the laboratory and 
artificial silk manufacturing plant of Charles Henry Schwartz 
was afire, and that, as the flames mounted, it seemed 
the building would be burned to the ground. 

Engines from near-by Berkeley soon screamed over the 
highways to the scene of the explosion, bringing an apparatus 
which immediately poured a stream of chemicals on the 



The fury of the fire gradually calmed, and finally the 
stubborn flames were brought under control. Hundreds of 
spectators watched the firemen's gallant fight, the crowd 
being kept back by strong police lines. 

With the blaze extinguished, the police and county au- 
thorities entered the laboratory' to investigate the cause of 
the mysterious explosion. 

They were horrified to discover a ghastly corpse amid the 
smoldering ruins! 

The body, seared to a cinder by the intense heat, was 
56 



RIDDLE 



"He kicked my dog for sniffing at 
the closet door "—so said Gonzales, 
night watchman, of Charles Henry 
Schwartz, the chemist-inventor — 
after the mysterious corpse was 
discovered! Was it a wrong clue? 
Hasn't many a man been wrongly 
suspected for stronger reason ? 

By BURTON BASSETT 

identified as that of Schwartz, the chemist and inventor, 
owner of the laboratory. It was assumed that the chemist 
was working alone in the laboratory when the explosion oc- 
curred, for no traces of any other body were found. 

PHARLES HENRY SCHWARTZ was a prominent and 
well-liked chemist, residing at Berkeley. He was thirty- 
six years old, and had three manly young sons and a beautiful , 
devoted wife. Mrs. Schwartz had given considerable 
financial aid and good advice to the inventions and ambitious 
plans of her husband, by which he hoped to accumulate a 
huge fortune. 

Schwartz proudly termed himself a "soldier of fortune," 
and had the reputation of having experienced thrilling ad- 
ventures in many parts of the world. He often recounted 
his daring war-time escapes, and exhibited a wound where a 
machine-gun bullet had narrowly missed taking his life. 
The scar was as large as a silver dollar. 

As a former ace in the French flying service, he talked of 
thrilling battles with German flyers high in the clouds over 
the trenches; and of how his flying skill had saved him numer- 
ous times in his "dog battles" with the enemy, many of 
whose aviators he had sent plunging to the earth in flames. 
As a spy, too, he had braved the perils of the German firing 
squads to get valuable information of troop movements from 
behind the enemy lines. Many times Schwartz had been 
suspected of obtaining military information while serving in 
the German arrriy, and finally he had been forced to flee back 
to the French outposts. 

After the war he had gone to Germany and, because of his 
ability to speak the language, had obtained employment in a 
chemical plant. It was while experimenting in a German 
laboratory, it seemed, that he had stumbled upon a discovery 
which he believed would enable him to reap a fortune in the 
manufacture of artificial silk. 

An explosion occurred during his experiments, however, 
and he again was injured; but he recovered, and journeyed to 
California. 

Seeking his fortune through his mysterious artificial silk 
formula, Schwartz busied himself with elaborate plans to 
establish a laboratory and manufacturing plant at Walnut 
Creek. His devoted wife contributed a large share of her 
private fortune to the enterprise. He also sold considerable 
stock to investors, and interested Chamber of Commerce and 
civic officials in his plans. Absorbed in his project, he spent 
most of his waking hours in the plant laboratory. 

But in spite of his devotion to his experiments, Schwartz 
had a reputation of being something of a Don Juan, and ap- 
parently found time to pursue his amours among the fair sex. 

A sensational breach of promise suit for $75,000 was the 



of the Secret CLOSET 



result of one of 
t^se affairs. Miss 
Elizabeth Adam, 
a pretty Swiss 
girl who was em- 
ployed in an Oak- 
land beauty par- 
lor, brought the 
charge. 

Miss Adam, a 
former school- 
teacher in Geneva, 
declared that 
Schwartz's roman- 
tic life in Europe 
had won her heart. 
She had promised 
to become his wife, 
she said, and then 
later, to her in- 
tense consterna- 
tion and disap- 
pointment, had 
learned that he 
was a married 
man. Schwartz 
had kept secret 
the fact that he 
was a husband 
and thrice a father, 
she alleged, while 
he paid ardent 
courtship to her. 

SCHWARTZ 
derided the 
charges. He im- 
mediately de- 
clared that Miss 
Adam was the tool 
of an international 
band of criminals 
who had plotted 
to ruin and obtain 
his secret formula 

for the manufacture of artificial silk, 
threatened his life, he asserted. 




Mrs. Schwartz's sincerity could not be in question. She identified the body as that of her husband — and 
who was better qualified to judge? Then, this being Schwartz — how could there be any hoax? The 
photo above shows the internationally famous chemist -criminologist, Doctor Edward O. Heinrich (holding 
flashlight) with detectives on either side, as he examines the burned cloth that covered the charred corpse 



The band had actually 



"Certain international powers," Schwartz told police and 
newspaper reporters, "have been trying for some time to 
gain possession of my chemical formula that 1 use in the 
manufacture of artificial silk. They promised me a dirty 
fight if I refused to agree to their proposals. I refused, and 
they told me that if I did not give them ten thousand 
dollars at once, they would paint my character so black that 
I would be forced to leave the United States!" 

The chemist-inventor was defended by his loyal wife, who 
publicly declared her undying faith in her husband. 

"Mr. Schwartz has been a wonderful husband and father, 
and I don't believe a particle of Miss Adam's accusations!" 
Mrs. Schwartz vehemently asserted. "1 am going to stay 
with him and fight this case until my husband is proved 
innocent before the entire world!" 

With renewed energy-, Schwartz plunged again into his 
exi>erimental work and devoted night after night to research 
in his laboratory. 

On the evening of July 30th, 1925, he toiled late. At 
about 9 o'clock he called his wife by telephone, and told her 
that he was preparing to lock up his laboratory and leave for 
home. 

But he never reached his fireside, because a few minutes 



after that, the mysterious explosion wrecked the laboratory 
where he had been working. Mrs. Schwartz's next word of 
her husband was the news of his tragic death. 

"lATHILE crowds swarmed as near as |x>ssible to the wrecked 
building the next day, and gazed in awe at the scene, 
police officials inspected the fire-swept laboratory. 

They discovered some interesting facts. 

Other detectives meantime had been questioning Schwartz's 
employees. 

Walter tionzales, the night watchman of the laboralor\ , 
talked freely. 

His story, though startling, only deepened the mystery. 

"Mr. Schwartz seemed to have a feeling that something 
dreadful like this was going to happen," the watchman said 
"Last night, some little time before the explosion, he seemed 
extremely nervous. He acted stranger than I have ever 
seen him act before. 

"About seven o'clock in the evening 1 brought him a bowl 
of soup and, as 1 set it down on the table, my dog sniffed at 
the door of Mr. Schwartz's secret closet, and acted strangely." 

"Wonder what kind of a secret closet it was?" remarked a 
detective. 

"It was right under the stairs opening off his laboratory." 
Gonzales- replied, "but I don't know what Mr. Schwartz 



58 



True Detective Mysteries 




Captain Clarence Lee, of the Berkeley Police Department, pointing 
with his pencil to the side of the workbench, seared by flame, in 
Schwartz's laboratory — one of the discoveries that seemed like a 
significant duel 



kept in it. He was always kind of touchy about 
anyone going near that closet. Perhaps he kept 
some of his secret experiment apparatus in it. 
But, anyway, he kicked my dog for sniffing at the 
closet door. 

"Then Mr. Schwartz said he wanted me to go 
buy him some chewing-gum and an alarm clock, 
and for me to take my time. He told ,me to take 
about two hours on the errand. I thought that 
strange. Then he puzzled me still more by of- 
fering to match me all the money he had in his 
pockets. It amounted to exactly two 
dollars and sixty-nine cents. Poor 
devil, it was exactly 
the amount the police 
found neaf his body 
after the explosion!" 

"And did you go on 
the errand for Mr. 
Schwartz?" another 
investigator asked. 

"VES. just before 
nine o'clock, as I 
remember, Mr. 
Schwartz a!so showed 
me his watch and fob, 
remarking that it was 
about nine o'clock. He 
told me to take his 
automobile, so that he 

could see when I was returning by looking for the head- 
lights. 

"I went on the errand, but I did not see any reason for 
taking two hours on something that required only a few 
minutes. As I did not have any place to go that night, I 
came right back to the laboratory in a short time. Mr. 
Schwartz seemed greatly displeased because I had returned 
so soon. It was strange. . . . And then, after some angry 
words, Mr. Schwartz ordered 
me to go to my home, which 
near the chemical laborator 
and go to bed. 

"I used to 
sleep in the 
laboratory un- 
til recently, 
when Mr. 
Schwartz or- 
dered me not 
to sleep there 
any more. I 
guess it was a 
lucky thing for 
me that he did. 
Otherwise I 
might have 
been killed 
with him. For 
shortly after I 
left him last 
night — I 
figure that it 
was only about 
eleven minutes 
— I had scarce- 
ly reached my home — 
when the big explosion 
occurred. The blast 
shook the neighborhood, 
and I looked out and 
saw that it was the 
laboratory. I ran back 
and gave the alarm." 




Meantime, what the searchers dis- 
covered only deepened the mystery. 

For one thing, there was a gasoline 
lamp just outside the laboratory 
door. Had fumes from some highly 
combustible matter floated out 
through the door and ignited on the 
lamp, resulting in the fatal explosion? 

Fire Marshal Guy Spencer, how- 
ever, a shrewd man, after making a 
personal inspection of the laboratory, 
reached a startling 
conclusion. 

"The fire which 
caused this explosion 
was incendiary," he 
announced, "and it 
will be up to the 
police to find the 
guilty party!" 

"How do you 
figure, Marshal, that 
this fire was deliber- 
ately set?" a police 
inspector asked. 

"Come here," 
Spencer commanded, 
and led the way to 
the roorn where 
Schwartz apparently 
had been working at 
a bench when he was killed by the explosion. 

In the blackened ruins was discovered what appeared to be 
a "torch" fashioned out of some kind of cloth on the end of a 
stick, and apparently soaked in an inflammable fluid. Quickly 
gazing about the laboratory, the Fire Marshal counted one, 
two, three and finally six of the crude torches, all of which 
bore evidence of having been lighted. 

But who had deliberately set half a dozen fires in the 

laboratory of Schwartz? And 
where had Schwartz been when 
the fires were set? Had some- 
one crept into 
the laboratory, 
murdered the 
chemist, and 
then sought 
to destroy 
traces of the 
crime by wreck- 
ing the build- 
ing with a 
terrific explo- 
sion? 



"An international band of criminals is plotting to ruin me and obtain 
my secret formula for the manufacture of artificial silk," said Schwartz 
bitterly, prior to his mysterious disappearance. The above is an early 
portrait of the "soldier of fortune" and former "ace in the French 
flying service," taken with his loyal wife who stoutly defended him in 
the charges made against him 



\VT AS there 
actually 
truth in 
Schwartz's as- 
tounding 
statement that 
international 
blackmailers 
had been seek- 
ing to murder 
him to obtain 
valuable secret for- 
mula for making arti- 
ficial silk? 

"The police must take 
care of this case at 
once," declared the Fire 
Marshal. "Here, take 
another look at this 



The Riddle of the Secret Closet 



50 



Here are several cans of a highly explosive chemical, placed in 
such a manner as to blow this laboratory to pieces had they 
been ignited. I can't understand how the explosive failed 
to go off. Guess it was one chance out of a hundred, for 
if all the explosive had gone off there wouldn't have been a 
stick left of this building, and we would not have been able 
to find anything of Schwartz's body!" 

'I'HE charred body of the victim had l>een taken to a small 
morgue at Walnut Creek, and it then l>ecame the painful 
duty of the police to inform the wife of the chemist about the 
tragedy which had made her a widow. Mrs. Schwartz had not 
heard from her 
husband since 
shortly before 
the fatal explo- 
sion, when he 
had telephoned 
her that he was 
returning home 
soon. 

She was 
gj- e a 1 1 y a g i- 
tated when he 
failed to appear 
at their Berkeley 
residence, and 
upon being in- 
formed of the 
explosion and 
death she col- 
lapsed. She be- 
came hysterical, 
and it was with 
great difficulty 
that policemen 
and neighbors 
calmed her. 

It was neces- 
sary to ask the 
young widow to 
view the body of 
her husband and 
identify it. After 
some hesitation, 
she consented, 
and was taken 
by police to see 
the body. She 
nearly swooned 
during the or- 
deal, but 
managed to gasp 
that the body 
was that of her 
husband 

The question 
then rose: "Who 
had slain Schwartz anc 
deed, attempted t 




As the helpless fly 
is to the spider, so 
was Gilbert Warren 
Barbe, evangelist 
and World War 
veteran (right), to 
the fiend in human 
form who lured him 
unsuspectingly to 
his horrible death 
afterward chiseling 
out his teeth, and 
destroying the color 
of his eyes, at 
possible clue to 
identity 



i hide the 
)urn his body?" 
The charred form was taken to the 
police morgue in San Francisco. 
There it was X-rayed, photographed, 
and preserved in cold storage by the 
most modern processes of science. 
The preservation was made to awaii 
the outcome of the coroner's inquest . 

After examining the photographs and X-rays, Doctor E. 
O. Heinrich, famous Berkeley criminologist, together with 
many keen-minded detectives, stated that the body was 
undoubtedly that of Schwartz 

Thhe mystey of the explosion, however, remained unsolved. 
Then the first link of what eventually was to grow into an 
astounding ehain of circumstantial evidence, was unearthed 



in the testimony of a ten-year-old boy who lived near 
Schwartz's laboratory — Jimmie Gallagher. Gasping in his 
excitement, the boy told the police his storj 

"I ran to see the fire after the explosion," he said, "and I 
saw an automobile come rushing from the direction of the 
plant owned by Mr. Schwartz. The auto nearly ran over 
me!" 

Whose automobile had nearly struck the frightened boy? 
Who had fled from the scene of the explosion, leaving Schwartz 
dead U|x>n the floor of the laboratory to l>e burned beyond 
recognition by the raging flames 5 

Detectives continued their pursuit of clues in the neighlx>r 

hood by ques- 
tioning all tin- 
residents of Wal- 
nut Creek. This 
line ol inquiries, 
pursued with 
tact and per- 
severance, turn- 
ed up some 
startling facts. 

Two women, 
residents of the 
neighborhood, 
informed the 
detectives that 
they had seen a 
man running 
swiftly down the 
highway just 
after the mys- 
terious explo- 
sion. The man 
appeared furtive 
and Mopped to 
glance back at 
the burning la- 
boratory before 
vanishing 
into the fog-en 
shrouded night. 

Joe Corry.also 
a resident of the 
little town where 
Schwartz had 
built his silk 
manufacturing 
plant, turned 
over to the de 
tectives two hats 
which he had 
picked up on tin 
highway neat 
the plant the 
day following 
the explosion. 
One had cellu- 
lose on its band, and apparently had 
belonged to Schwartz. The other 
hat was an ancient and battered 
brown head-piece. 

^ m |7 ROM Alfgust Reuter, proprietor 
of Canary Cottage, a road-hous« 
between Berkeley and Walnut Creek, 
detectives learned that Schwartz 
had stopped there and obtained gasoline and a new tire from 
Reuter, saying he was going on a long journey. This hap- 
|>ened on the same day of the fatal explosion, Schwartz's 
plans being ended by his death in his laboratory . 

Mrs. Esther Hatfield, personal secretary to the chemist, 
also related to the detectives the actions of her empkiyer on 
the day of the explosion. 




(Abqve) Soldiers of 
American Legion 
Post at Martinez, 
California, standing 
at attention as 
"Taps" is sounded 
over the remains 
of Warren Barbe, 
just before his coffin 
is lowered into its 
last resting place — 
while plain-clothes 
detectives mingled 
with the crowd that 
attended, keenly 
alert for a clue to his 
mysterious slayer 



60 



True Detective Mysteries 



"Mr. Schwartz paced the floor continuously, and wiped 
the sweat from the palms of his hands," said Mrs. Hatfield. 
"He was unusually nervous, and his eyes had a wild stare 
in them. Frequently I observed him glancing in the direc- 
tion of the small secret closet opening off the laboratory. 
He had always been secretive about this closet, and he was 
the only person who had a key to it.' 1 

HPHE mystery which had been growing around the case now 
*■ caused police to throw a double guard about the chemical 
plant, and detectives were instructed to shadow every move 
of all persons connected with the life of the chemist. 

At this point in the investigation, Doctor Heinrich, the 
criminologist, became more interested in the baffling case, 
and determined to devote his entire time to helping solve 
the mystery. 

Heinrich is a genius in his chosen life-work. He is a crimi- 
nologist whose reputation is widespread. When he sets his 
microscope to work, one may be sure that he will outsmart 
Sherlock Holmes 
himself. 

Many of his 
cases are 
famous. He 
once identified a 
young girl who 
had been slain, 
by fitting to- 
gether pieces- of 
bone and wisps 
of blond hair 
found in a dis- 
mal swamp. 
The victim had 
been cut into 
many pieces and 
her body scat- 
tered over a 
wide area of the 
swamp. Doctor 
Heinrich was 
summoned, and 
he literally 
matched the 
pieces of the 
body together 
and solved the 
problem of the 
victim's 
identity. 

In another 



mysterious case, 
Heinrich d e - 

termined that a woman had deliberately shot and killed her- 
self to make it appear that her lover had murdered her. 
The woman had lifted the receiver from the telephone, 
shouted, "Oh, don't, you're killing me!" and then shot herself. 
The telephone operator, overhearing the woman's agonized 
cry, called the police. The woman's sweetheart was arrested, 
but Doctor Heinrich proved that the woman herself, by 
fixing a board to the trigger, had fired the shotgun which 
killed her. As a result of this clever scientific work, the 
lover was liberated. 

Doctor Heinrich already had identified the body found in 
the laboratory as that of Schwartz. He determined again, 
however, to view the charred corpse which still was being 
preserved in cold storage in the San Francisco police morgue. 

First, the criminologist asked that a life photograph of 
the chemist be obtained for comparison with the face of the 
corpse. Photographs of Schwartz were sought — when a 
sinister discovery was made. During the night, the Schwartz 
home in Berkeley had been stealthily entered by a nocturnal 
prowler, who took no valuables — but in the morning, when 
Mrs. Schwartz made a check-up, she discovered that all the 



photographs and snap-shots of her dead husband were missing! 

Mrs. Schwartz had said she was certain the body was that 
of her husband. She now begged that the head alone be pre - 
served pending the coroner's inquest, and that the body be 
interred. The police refused her request. 

Later that same day, a detective was closely scanning the 
head of the body as it lay on a marble slab. After much 
search, a lone photograph of Schwartz had been found. 
Suddenly the officer, with the photograph in his hand, uttered 
an exclamation of surprise. 

"The ears!" he' cried. "The lobe of the ear seems to be 
different!" 

It was true. The right ear alone of the entire corpse had es- 
caped the devastating blaze which had engulfed the victim. 
Investigation showed that this right ear had a "Darwinian 
lobe," which was discovered to be entirely different from the 
lobe on Schwartz's ear in the lone photograph of him 
available. 

This proved positively that the body found in the labora- 
tory after the 
explosion and 
fire was not that 
of Schwartz! 

Whose body 
was it, then? 
And where was 
Schwartz? 

The de- 
tectives and 
Doctor Heinrich 
were stumped. 
But at least 
they knew, now, 
that some fiend- 
ish plot had 
been hatched. 

RESIDENTS 
of Walnut 
Creek again 
were ques- 
tioned, and 
against their 
will were asked 
to view the 
body. They 
said they 
thought it 
might be that of 
Joe Rodriguez, 
a farm laborer 
known as 
"Portugee Joe." 

"Portugee Joe" had vanished suddenly after working for 
three years on the ranch of John Diez. The body, then, was 
identified as that of Rodriguez. 

But Rodriguez blasted this solution of the mystery by 
walking home alive and unharmed! 

Doctor F. S. Barber, of Berkeley, informed the detectives 
that Schwartz had once been an officer in a French Alsatian 
regiment and had been shot through the chest, the wound 
leaving a scar the size of a silver dollar. But the fire had 
badly charred this part of the body, so this mark of identifi- 
cation could not be traced. 

Because he had fixed Schwartz's teeth on various occasions, 
Doctor Barber examined the mouth of the victim. He found 
that the teeth were different. While Schwartz had nearly 
perfect teeth, those of the corpse were badly decayed. 

On the other hand, Schwartz had two teeth missing from 
his upper jaw — and the two corresponding teeth were missing 
from the mouth of the corpse! Baffling again — until closer 
examination showed that they had the appearance of having 
been recently removed. 

Doctor Heinrich again inspected the body minutely. He 




Was there ever a crime in which the innocent did not suffer? Above, Mrs. Schwartz 
and her three beautiful children, innocent victims of the ghastly crime in the Walnut 

Creek laboratory 



The Riddle of the Secret Closet 



61 



lifted the hands, probed the mouth and eyes. When he 
rose, his face was set in rocklike lines, and his tone had a note 
of grim finality. 

"This body has been 'worked on' to hide its identity," 
he said slowly. "That is the answer, simple as it seems, to 
our problem. Cunning means, devilish means, have been 
used not only to destroy existing identification marks, but 
to create new ones! 

"Look: The teeth have been chiseled out, to correspond 
to Schwartz's missing teeth. 
The color of the eyes has been 
destroyed by puncturing the 
eyeballs. Acid has been poured 
over the hands to eliminate 
the possibility of identification 
by finger-prints. 

"All this mutilation was done 
coolly and deliberately by 
someone who first ended the life 
of his victim by a blow on the 
back of the head, probably 
with a hammer." 

There was little doubt that 
the criminologist was correct in 
this conclusion. The authori- 
ties now announced positively 
that the body was not that of 
the chemist. Then the cry 
went forth: 

"Find Schwartz!" 



■yALUABLE clues were 
quickly obtained by good 
detective work and many ques- 
tions. 

Two weeks before the fatal 
explosion in his 
laboratory, it 
was learned, 
Schwartz had 
advertised in 
San Francisco 
newspapers for a 
chemist "w i t h 
small hands and 
feet." 

"Why," the 
detectives asked 
themselves, 
"had Schwartz 
specified in his 
advertisement 



that he wanted a chemist who must have small hands and 

feet?" 

Further questions among friends of the missing Schwartz 
disclosed that he, himself, had small hands and feet. 

It was learned that a chemist had answered the advertise- 
ment, and had been told by Schwartz to return at night. 

A long, secret conference was held by Schwartz and the 
unnamed chemist, according to Gonzales, the night watch- 
man. What the mysterious meeting was about, what 





(Above) Arrow points to room in the apartment house in Oakland, Calif., in 
which was enacted by the "mysterious Mr. Warren," the last shocking scene in 
this astounding crime plot that for days baffled the most astute minds, and that 
had enlisted the efforts of Scotland Yard detectives and the European police. 
(Left) Doctor Edward O. Heinrich, of Berkeley, Calif., whose fame as a scientific 
sleuth has spread to the four corners of the earth. He played an important part 
ise herein told. In front of Doctor Heinrich is his large telescopic 
with which he enlarged the tiny clues found in the wrecked laboratory 



Schwartz and the man discussed, were unanswered questions, 
as Schwartz had not permitted Gonzales to enter his room that 
night. 

A description of the unnamed visitor to Schwartz's 
laboratory was obtained. Theodore Benetis, of Saranap, 
a near-by town, revealed that he had given a "lift" in his 
automobile to a man who had remarked that he was going to 
work in Schwartz's plant. Benetis said the man was about 
thirty-six years old, and the same height and weight as 
Schwartz. The man wore a blue shirt and new blue overalls. 

r\OCTOR HEINRICH again returned to the laboratory, 
" which was still under a heavy police guard, and made a 
careful inspection of theroominwhich the body had been found. 
The criminologist painstakingly swept the laboratory floor and 
then placed the sweepings under a large microscope. The 
powerful lens brought out what the naked eye had passed 
over unnoticed. It revealed, among other things, small 
pieces of soap, ground coffee grains, pieces of needles and 
thread, and some wool from charred socks. 

Three badly charred religious pamphlets also were found. 
Although the paper was blackened by (Continued on page 103) 




The clever tricks 
pulled in the nar- 
cotic-smuggling 
game are almost 
beyond belief— 
and it has to be a 
shrewd dope dick 
who can ferret 
them out success- 
fully! 



Group of Chinese opium smokers taken in raids by New York narcotic 

detectives 



By Frank Donohue 



Note: Mr. Donohue, who is one of the foremost narcotic experts 
in this country, related in September and October True Detective 
Mysteries, some of the astounding methods used by the gigantic 
drug smuggling rings to elude the vigilance of customs inspectors and 
narcotic agents; also, of the clever tricks resorted to in hiding their 
illicit goods, by dealers as well as addicts. This month Mr. Donohue 
reveals the methods of interstate distribution of narcotics — of smuggling 
into penal institutions — tells why he classes drug smuggling as "one 
of the gigantic industries of America" — delves to the root of the prob- 
lem — and points to the remedy. 

Part Three — Conclusion 

THE smuggling of narcotics into the country from 
abroad is only the first step in the illicit and nefarious 
traffic. The drugs must then be distributed throughout 
the country. Numerous tricks are used in this gigantic 
task of distribution, to outwit the narcotic detectives. 

Before the advent of Prohibition, it was an easy matter 
to transport narcotics from point to point by automobile. 
But now, with the various State troopers and the Federal 
Prohibition enforcement agents on the lookout for rum- 
runners and holding up hill suspicious-looking cars and search- 
ing for liquor, this method of transportation is not so favored 
as it was formerly. 

Although narcotics are smuggled in at every port, New 
York City is practically the headquarters and clearing-house 
on the Atlantic seaboard. When the narcotics arrive in 
bulk at the New York center of distribution, they are usually 
at once repacked in ounce containers, bearing counterfeit 
labels, and placed in trunks. If there are orders on hand, 
then, of course, exact amounts of each kind of narcotic re- 
quired are placed in these trunks to correspond with the 
orders. These trunks are then taken to different addresses 
throughout the city, so that there will not be too large an ' 
amount in any one location. 

Furnished rooms are rented in various parts of the city as 
"plants." Or, someone registers at a hotel and has his trunk 
sent to the hotel baggage room. Some of the "big" men 
connected with drug rings are known to be part owners, or 
have an interest in, several of the smaller hotels in New 
York City. 

If the order is from a dealer, say, in Detroit, a railroad 
ticket to that city is purchased. Then an expressman, or 
taxi, is called to the hotel or furnished room. The trunk 
is taken to the railroad baggage room and checked on the 

■ 

62 



passage ticket, and a baggage check received. Usually no 
one rides on the ticket, and the baggage check is forwarded 
by mail to the buyer in Detroit, who sends an expressman 
for the trunk. 

At each stage of the proceedings, the real dealers and 
owners of the narcotics are in the background. If a seizure 
is made, only a hireling is apprehended, but usually no one 
can be connected with the illicit property. Naturally, no 
one appears to claim such a trunk from the police, even if its 
contents are worth thousands of dollars! 

Of course, each case may differ from others in some details, 
but the following is a good example. It is in part best told 
in the words of the report of the narcotic detective who 
made the arrest: 

"I went to the platform of the Westcott Express located 
in the Grand Central Terminal Station, and saw the station 
baggage master. He stated to me that a trunk had been 
dumped onto the platform by an unknown expressman and 
that the baggage checker, on examining the trunk for ship- 
ping tags, detected the odor of opium. 

"/"\N further handling and examination of the trunk, the 
lock sprang and opened, revealing the contents, which 
consisted of about fifty pounds of gum opium. 

"He further stated that his night assistant baggage master 
informed him that a man had come to the baggage office the 
night before, between five and six P. M., explaining that he 
had lost his trunk check and that his trunk was then in the 
baggage room. He was informed that it would be necessary 
for him to identify the trunk. 

"The man was taken to the baggage room, and he identified 
the trunk (the one with the opium) as his, and offered some 
money to have it shipped through.. He was told that it 
would be necessary for him to make an itemized list of its 
contents, and if the list was found to correspond with the 
contents when the trunk was opened, the trunk would be 
delivered to him. 

"This man left, saying that he would return. The baggage 
master expressed the opinion that the man had become sus- 
picious and would not return, and that there was nothing 
left for me to do but to take the trunk and its contents to 
the property clerk at Police Headquarters. 

"I had just finished signing the receipt for the trunk when 
one of the employees came into the office and said that the 




courge of the Underworld 





(Above) Large seizure 
of narcotics made at 
269 West 11th Street. 
New York City, on 
December 11th, 1922, 
the property of Wil- 
liam Williams, who 
supplied theatrical 
addicts. Williams 
was later arrested by 
the Federal authori- 
tics, convicted^ snd 
sent to Atlanta 
Penitentiary 




O 



CO 



(Left) When a drug 
addict is sent to the 
workhouse or peni- 
tentiary, he is 
thoroughly searched 
for concealed narcot- 
ics. The prisoner 
has to think up some- 
thing new, or dupli- 
cate an old method 
in a more clever and 

careful manner, in order to get by with it. Here is a pair of shoes with secreted heroin. The drug was 
sewed up in the shoes so' neatly that it would have gone through if the owner had been less hoggish and 
not tried to carry so much that it formed a lump. This illustrates how thorough are the searches made 
(Right) Another clever idea that went wrong. The narcotic addict who engineered this trick liked 
"good books"— but he was denied the pleasure of opening this one 




man who had identified the trunk was now in the baggage 
room. In company with my partners, I immediately went 
to the baggage room and was shown the man, who was then 
walking out of the baggage room toward the street. 
I followed him out, and stopped him. 
'Are you the man who was in last evening looking for a 
trunk?' I asked. 
" 'Yes,' he replied. 

" 'Come back with me; probably I can help you out,' I said. 
"I brought him back to a separate storeroom adjoining 
the main baggage room, where the trunk containing the 
opium had been placed since his first identification. Pointing 
trunk, I said: 'Is this the trunk'' 
" 'Yes, but it don't belong to me!' he answered quickly. 
"I asked him whom it belonged to, and he replied: 
" 'I was in the waiting-room last evening, and a woman 
told me she lost her trunk and asked me if I would go into 
the baggage room and try and find it. She gave me a de- 
scription of the trunk, and this one fitted the description!' 

"I then .placed him under arrest, and on searching him I 
found a memorandum book in his inside coat pocket it 



was written in lead pencil an item reading: '50 lbs. Gum.' 
This presumably referred to the fifty pounds of gum opium 
in the trunk. He also had a railroad ticket on the Pennsyl- 
vania Railroad for St. Louis. The trunk was supposed to 
go to St. Louis on the New York Central Railroad. 

"The defendant, who gave the name of Max Gordon, was 
tak»n to Police Headquarters, together with the trunk. At 
a line-up of six men, among whom the defendant was placed, 
the assistant baggage master picked out Gordon as the man 
who had identified the trunk the evening before as his prop- 
erty and who offered money to have it shipped through." 

TP HE same evening Gordon, although held on a felony 
* charge, was admitted to bail in the sum of $500 and — 
disappeared! His bail was declared forfeited. 

An explanation is due here relative to the felony charge. 
Under the New York State laws, possession of, and the selling 
of, narcotics are only misdemeanors. A policeman, not 
being a chemist, cannot swear that the drugs possessed or 
sold are narcotics. It is necessary that such drugs be sent 
to the City Chemist for analysis, and if the defendant in the 



63 



64 



True Detective Mysteries 



case does not concede 
that the drugs are nar- 
cotics, the City 
Chemist must appear 
in court and testify 
as an expert to the 
exact nature of the 
drugs— that they are 
opium, morphine, 
cocaine, or as the 
case may be. 

Now, anyone 
arrested for a mis- 
demeanor during 
the day must be 
brought to night 
court, or, if night 
court has ad- 
journed, then he 
must be brought 
into court the 
next morning. It 
would be impos- 
sible to have the 
narcotic analysis 
in time to com- 
ply with this law. 
Therefore, the 
police avail them- 
selves of another 
law which was 
originally enacted 
to apply to the 
possession of 
chloral hydrate— 
"knock-out" 
drops (Section 



(Top) Seizure made 
in an opium joint. 
On the left, in this 
picture, is shown a 
box of yen shee, 
the small tool by it 
being a yen gow, 
used for removing 
yen shee from pipe 
bowl, while next 
to the right is an 
opium layout tray 
with peanut - oil 
lamps for cooking 
the "pills" 



■ ■ 



1752 
Law). 



of the Penal 
It reads: 




A person, other 
than a duly li- 
censed physician 
or surgeon engaged 
in the lawful prac- 
tise of his pro- 
fession, who 
has in his 
possession 
any narcotic, 
or anesthetic 
sub stance , 
compound or 
preparation, 
capable of 
producing 
stupor or 
unconscious- 
ness, with 
intent to ad- 
minister the 
same or cause 
the same to be 
administered 
to another, 
without the 
latter' s con- 
(Continued 
on page 76) 



(Left) This is the 
trunk, billed to St 
Louis, that was 
seized by a narcotic 
detective at Grand 
Central Terminal, 
New York, on April 
20th, 1921, and in 
the upper-left and 
upper-right corners 
are side and front 
views of Max Gor- 
don, who claimed 
the trunk, was ar- 
rested, but later 
jumped his bail. 
Gordon had in his 
possession $60,000 
in one - thousand - 
dollar bills on the 
day of his arrest 






(Left) Ernest Jules Grenout, alias 
Laurent De Leglise, alias Ma II brant . 
Although this man has never been 
arrested in the United States, the 
New York Narcotic Bureau files 
contain a criminal record of him 
four inches thick, his activities ex- 
tending through seven countries. 
He has been expelled by royal 
decree from Italy, expelled from 
England by an Expulsion Order of 
the Secretary of State of . Great 
Britain, deported from Belgium and 
Switzerland, his operations also in 
Germany and Canada. He has been identified with many of the big shipments of narcotics smuggled into the 
U. S. In Canada he was arrested in Ottawa, Montreal, and St. John's, New Brunswick. 

(Righ r) Mai vina Buzzi, who had been his companion. Early in his career Grenout taught French in the Berlitz School of Languages 
at Bologna, Italy, where she taught English. She accompanied him to Canada. When arrested in Brussels, Belgium, they were 

stopping at the best hotel, and had a servant and private secretary 



eluding France, 



True Detective Mysteries 



65 



tt 



LOOK. _ 

he's imitating 
a pianist/" 

someone shouted 

Then a queer thing happened 

JACK had strummed some "Blues" for us on his like and 
Nan had just finished her screamingly funny burlesque 
on the "Kinkajou." We were all set for dancing, when — 
the radio refused to work! 

No amount of jiggling brought it to life, either. In spite of 
our best efforts, all we could get from that confounded radio 
were such desolate howls that the girls begged us to leave the 
poor old thing alone. 

Someone made a half-hearted suggestion of bridge. Hut 
Tom had a better plan. Pulling Joe to his feet — good old 
"sit-in-the-corner" Joe, whom everyone liked to pick on — he 
cried in a loud voice: 

"Just a minute, folks! The party is saved! 
Joe, here, has kindly offered to enliven the 
proceedings with a piano solo ..." 

Loud cheering drowned out the rest. This 
promised to be good — for, as we all knew, Joe 
couldn't play a note. Naturally, we expected 

him to clown 

Just as he sat down at the piano, Tom called 




complete amazement of us all, he struck the 
first bars of — "The Varsity Drag!" 

And how ! With all the verve and expression 
of a professional! No wonder 
Tom's eyes almost popped out 
of his head! This wasn't the 
clowning he had expected Joe 



"Play 'The Varsity Drag' — that's a hot 
dance number!" 

I couldn't help smiling at the thought of 
Joe — who had always taken a back seat at our 
parties — playing "hot" music. Excited whis- 
pers came from all parts of the room. "Wonder 
what he's going to do!" — "He doesn't know 
one note from another!" Suddenly someone 
shouted : 

"Get this! Look — he's imitating a pianist!" 

A Queer Thing Happens 

Raising his hand melodramatically, Joe 
waited a moment to command silence. Then, 
without any more preliminaries, and to the 



to ... 
Unal 



ile to 



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Piano 
Organ 
Violin 
Piccolo 
Clarinet 
Flute 
Harp 
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resist the tanta- 
lizisg music, couple after couple 
glided around the floor. When 
Joe stopped playing the ap- 
plause could have been heard 
around the block — only to be 
instantly followed by requests 
for more numbers. 

All evening they kept Joe 
busy at the piano — playing 
jazz, popular songs, sentimen- 
tal ballads, even classical stuff 
— everything the crowd asked 
for, and they asked for plenty! 

How that lad could play ! I " ~ 
was dumbfounded. Why, it was incredible! 
Joe had always seemed to l>e a "born wall- 
flower" — he had never displayed any talent 
for entertaining — yet now ... I determined 
to solve the puzzle. On the way home that 
night I drew Joe aside and demanded, 

"How on earth did you do it?" 

He laughed. "Why, it was very easy! I 
simply took that home-study course in music 
your cousin told us about. ..." 

"You don't mean that course that was 
supposed to show you how to play without a 
teacher, do you?" I interrupted. 

"That's it! Say, it's a great course, all 
right!" he enthused. "There wasn't any ex- 
pensive private teacher to pay — and since the 
lessons came by mail, I didn't have to set 
aside valuable hours for study. In fact, I 
practiced only in my spare time, a few min- 
utes a day . And the course is thorough ! Why 
almost before I knew it, I was playing simple 
pieces by note, and. ..." 

"I guess you don't have to tell me how 
thorough it is," I broke in. "Your perform- 
ance tonight was a knockout! And you 
used to say you had no 'talent'!" 

"I haven't," he insisted. "Anybody can learn to 
play the U. S. School of Music wayl" 



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66 



True Detective Mysteries 




The Unmasking of "Mysterious Mrs. X" 



(Continued from page 34) 



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or one of their guests had tipped off the 
robbers, or that someone who knew the 
Wieners and was cognizant of their plans 
for the evening of January 29th was re- 
sponsible. In the latter case it might have 
been a salesgirl, a bank employee who had 
seen Mrs. Wiener take her jewels from 
the vault, an eavesdropper who had over- 
teard a casual conversation in any one of 
a number of public places, and so on. 

This gives a faint idea of the length 
and breadth of the investigation. W hile 
Captain Bruckinan, Foley and I were dis- 
cussing these possibilities, detectives at- • 
tached to the Twenty-First Precinct were 
covering the neighborhood at the scene of 
the crime, seeking a chance witness to the 
stick-up, whose presence of mind or keen- 
ness of eyesight would prove better than 
that of the victims themselves. I might 
say right here that they drew blanks. 

DURING the forenoon Mr. and Mrs. 
Wiener, Mr. and Mrs. Kaplan, Mr. 
and Mrs. Shieber and Pcgler, the chauf- 
feur, were escorted to the Rogues' Gallery 
and reviewed photographs of crooks who 
make a specialty of hold-ups similar to the 
one they had gone through. This, too, 
missed fire. 

Almost right off the bat they, themselves, 
were cleared. As I said before, we were 
aware of the excellent reputation borne by 
the Wieners, and investigation of both 
Kaplan and Shieber revealed men of equal- 
ly fine standing. They earned good salaries 
and lived comfortably within their means. 

The handling of the case in the days that 
followed was severely criticized by Bronx 
citizens. 

Why, they demanded, were the police 
doing nothing to bring the thugs to jus- 
tice? If they were doing anything, why 
didn't they convey the news through re- 
porters? Letters poured into my office. 

Had Captain Bruckinan or myself given 
the requested answers to these questions, 
many complacent citizens would have be- 
come more indignant ! Had Captain 
Bruckman explained with frank truthful- 
ness that we were completely baffled and 
were beginning to look on the case as a 
hopeless one, the protesting populace would 
have felt outraged. Yet we had done 
everything humanly possible to bring the 
thugs out of hiding. 

In the old days, the saloons and palaces 
of joy were fertile sources of tips after 
a job like the Wiener robbery had been 
"pulled." But the saying, "Birds of a 
feather flock together," is no longer true. 
You are apt to find underworld birds 
flocking to-day in smart restaurants and 
conservative hotels on quite friendly terms 
with the upper classes, and you have to 
use great discretion in pursuing an inves- 
tigation in these quarters. 

The lives and reputations of some of 
the most belligerent letter-writers were in- 
vestigated in our blanket search for the 
tip-off. Had they known this, they would 
have been furious — and in some instances 
most uneasy, though they had nothing to 
do with the case. 

One woman who moves in high circles 
was brought in to me, and I was obliged 
to ask her to explain why she was teaing 



and dancing with a certain notorious con- 
fidence man, who had been known to take 
a flyer in a hold-up once in a while. 

"Good heavens, Judge," she exclaimed, 
horrified, "I've been married fourteen 
years, and if this ever gets out I'll be 
disgraced for life!" 

"If you can convince me," I told her, 
"that you knew nothing about the Wieners' 
movements that night, there is no reason 
why anybody should ever knpwT My of- 
fice has heard scores of tales of ladies' 
indiscretions ; those who have as much 
sense as you seem to have, take the les- 
son to heart and break off an association 
that is bound to become dangerous." 

But she could tell me nothing. Her pos- 
sible contact with the crime, anyway, was 
very remote, and the Captain had picked 
her up on an anonymous tip probably sent 
in by a rival for the gigolo's affections. 

So the days went by and faded into 
weeks. Each was filled with an endless 
chain of inquiry. Stool-pigeons were con- 
stantly quizzed, as a matter of routine. 
Every tip was followed up, all to no 
avail. 

One evening Captain Bruckman and I 
were discussing the case. We had to ad- 
mit to ourselves that we were completely 
stumped. 

"The French have a saying, Captain," I 
remarked at length — "'cherches la femme' 
Ever heard of it?" 

Captain Bruckman, who is a practical 
man, smiled grimly. "I suppose you mean 
there may be some mysterious 'Mrs. X' 
mixed up in this," he countered. 

"Well, there may be," I replied thought- 
fully. As a matter of fact, I was right 
then thinking about Mrs. Kaplan and Mrs. 
Shieber. We had put everyone else on the 
pan but them, who were in any way con- 
nected with the case, and I remarked about 
this to Bruckman. 

"It wouldn't do any harm to keep each 
of them under surveillance for a while," I 
suggested. "One can never tell." 



THIS looked, I admitted, 1 
lone 



like 

long shot. In the preliminary investi- 
gation, detectives checking up on these 
women had given them a clean bill. Both 
bore excellent reputations. Judging by 
appearances, you couldn't conceive of 
either living a double life. Had they be- 
longed to that class of gay young wives 
who occasionally pick up male acquaint- 
ances promiscuously in hotel foyers, dance 
halls or night clubs, we would have kept 
hot on their trail — for those are the hunt- 
ing-grounds where underworld sheiks stalk 
their prey. But they didn't. They ap- 
peared to be quiet, attractive, conservative 
young matrons without anything of the 
wandering wives in their make-up. 

However, they were the only two cards 
we had left in our hands, and the Captain 
consented to play them. 

As Mrs. Kaplan had sat alongside Mrs. 
Wiener at the time of the robbery, she 
was the first of the two to be given at- 
tention. And let me hasten to add that 
she came off with flying colors. If she 
reads this, she will learn for the first time 
of the days she was shadowed, as many, 
: 68) 



True Detective Mysteries 



67 



I Will TrainYou 

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68 



True Detective Mysteries 




(Continued from page 66) 



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many other law-abiding citizens are shad- 
owed during the investigation of what looks 
like a baffling crime. 

There now remained to us our last 
card — Mrs. Shieber ; and it certainly 
looked as if the results of keeping her 
under surveillance would be equally bar- 
ren. To have moved precipitately would 
have been dangerous. 

Then, just as I was leaving for lunch 
on April 13th, Captain Bruckman dropped 
in to see me. There was a less careworn 
expression on his face than I had seen 
for some time. 

"We're ready to pick up Mrs. Shieber 
as the tip-off in the Wiener robbery," he 
said to me with a grim smile. 

"Mrs. Shieber!" It took me several 
moments to digest this. "Mrs. Shieber — 
friend of the Wieners, their guest on the 
very night of the hold-up! If she had 
anything to do with the job, she is a 
mighty good actress !" 

"That's what she was before her mar- 
riage," he grinned. "At least she was an 
actress — I don't know how good she was. 
But, anyway* we got the goods on her in 
this!" 

T HAD only a few minutes to spare, l)ut 
A they sufficed for Bruckman's terse sum- 
mary of the evidence against Mrs. 
Shieber. 

The first thing the Captain's men bad 
found out to the lady's discredit was that 
she was meeting and "going places" with 
a handsome young man who in no way 
resembled Mr. Shieber. In fiction, ro- 
mantic writers embroider this hackneyed 
situation with flowers of rhetoric ; a cop 
describes it more crudely and starkly than 
I can put it here. 

As is the routine subsequent to such a 
discovery, Mrs. Shieber's knight errant 
was investigated. He proved to be a young 
lather named Jack "Jay" Dougherty. And 
Jay's associates came in for scrutiny. 
They were an interesting bunch of jail- 
birds; among them were Moe Auswaks and 
Jack Levy, who had records a yard long. 

To make a long story short, Bruckman's 
men found themselves in a nest of thieves. 
There was another, who was not a jail- 
bird, named in the coterie, but the Cap- 
tain was loath to believe that he had any- 
thing to do with the crime; if he had, it 
meant one of those ugly, indelible blots 
on the escutcheon of the Police Depart- 
ment. 

It was his plan to pick Mrs. Shieber and 
Dougherty up immediately, but to separate 
them so that neither would know at the 
time that they were under suspicion. 

"Order your men," I suggested, "to tell 
the woman the next time they see her 
with Dougherty, that I have a new batch 
of pictures of stick-up men I want her 
to look at right away. If she parts from 
Dougherty on the spot, have one remain 
with the man. If the pair come on here 
together, they can be separated in the re- 
ception room. Anyway, as soon as they 
are separated, Dougherty can be taken to 
the Twenty-First Precinct station-house 
and you can start questioning him there 
while I am giving Mrs. Shieber the once- 
over." 

This arrangement was agreed upon. 
Within an hour of our conversation, the 
detectives picked up the pair driving along 



the Concourse, and I found Mrs. Shieber 
awaiting me on my return from luncheon. 

If clear consciences were mirrored in 
the appearance and actions of their own- 
ers, this woman would have been as inno- 
cent as a new-born babe. When my secre- 
tary, Murphy, brought her to my office, 
she approached me with the visual charm- 
ing smile on her lips. 

I indicated a chair near my desk, and 
she sat down and looked at me expects 
antly, a quizzical flicker in her eyes. 

"You have some more pictures?" she 
said, breaking what was beginning to be 
an awkward silence. 

I shook my head. "No, that's not why 
I had you brought here, Mrs. Shieber." 

Though I continued to look at her 
gravely, calculatingly, she didn't appear 
to be at all disturbed. But as I allowed 
a minute or so to elapse before I con- 
tinued, her eyes narrowed slightly. 

"Mrs. Shieber," I said at last, "you must 
suspect why I have had you brought here. 
We knmi> the ivholc story about the 
Wiener hold-up." 

"Why . . . that's . . . f -fine 1" she said, 
stammering slightly. "But why do you 
look at me like that ? Who was . . . re- 
sponsible ?" 

"You. And I am going to give you a 
chance to tell me the truth." 

HER response to this was an expression 
that was as eloquent as that of the 
Sphinx. What wild thoughts zverc passing 
behind that mask, I could not tell — bid I 
could easily surmise. 

"Captain Bruckman has had you shad- 
owed ever since the Wiener robbery," I 
told her, starting to stick the needles in. 
"His men have reported your every move; 
where you've gone, who was with you, 
what you did, whom you met and so on. 
. . . Dougherty is over at the station- 
house now . . . We know all about Moe 
and Levy and Freud. . . ." 

"My God!" The ejaculation burst from 
her lips in a low moan. "What will my 
husband say? . . . How can I explain?" 

"That difficulty can wait," I told her 
sharply. "Can you give me any reason 
why I should not have you placed under 
arrest immediately?" 

"Arrest? Oh, not that, Judge," she 
cried. "Let me tell you how I came to 
get mixed up in this, and convince you that 
I am perfectly innocent I" 
I told her to go ahead, and she did. 
It was the old, old story ; you've read 
scores of tales similar to the one she fold 
me that early spring afternoon. An at- 
tractive young married woman hesitating 
on the curb during a heavy rain-storm. 
Worrying about ruining her pumps in 
sloshing across the street. The dashing 
hero drives up in a snappy car and offers 
her his services. She accepts. He drives 
her home . . . No, not quite to the door, 
because of what the neighbors might 
think . . . but to a near-by corner ... A 
rendezvous made for a future meeting . . . 
The heroine, a married woman with too 
much time on her hands, plays with tempta- 
tion . . . Many meetings. Introductions to 
the hero's men friends ... A horrible 
awakening . . . The sword of Damocles 
. . . Reassurance . . . Life becomes a living 
crash. 

i page lO) 



True Detective Mysteries 



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70 



True Detective Mysteries 




(Conli lined from page 68) 



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"Why didn't you tell the detectives that 
you recognized the men in the hold-up, 
if you were so horrified?" I asked her. 

"How could I, I ask your" she said, 
more as an ejaculation than a question. 
"What would they have thought, the 
Wieners, the Kaplans — and my husband? 
Wouldn't they have wanted to know how 
I met the men?" 

"Did you receive any of the money they 
obtained from the sale of the jewels?" 

Without a moment's hesitation she an- 
swered, "No!" 

"Well, we'll go over and see if Dough- 
erty's story corroborates yours," I said 
to her, getting up from my desk and 
putting on my hat and coat. 

LIKE an automaton she accompanied mc 
to the station-house. Leaving her in 
the care of a matron, I went into Inspec- 
tor Duane's office, where the young man 
was being grilled. Also present were 
Captain Bruckman and a stenographer. 

"Mrs. Shieber has made a statement ad- 
mitting everything," I remarked to the In- 
spector as I took a chair. "You can lock 

her up " 

"She didn't have a thing to do with it !" 
Dougherty fell into the trap readily. 
Leaping from his chair, he advanced to- 
ward me belligerently. In appearance and 
action, he was the motion-picture hero in 
real life. 

"How do you know? Were you there?" 
I asked him. 

His hands fell helplessly to his sides and 
his heavy lids drooped over his dark blue 
eyes. He had been pretty well wilted by 
the time I arrived, but the news of Mrs. 
Shieber's possible arrest completed his de- 
moralization. 

"Yeah," he snarled, "I was there . . . 
and she didn't know. . , ." 

He dropped back onto his chair, crouched 
forward, and with hands clasped tightly 
between his knees, stared in front of him. 

"Better tell the truth," I urged him. It 
was evident that the Inspector and Captain 
Bruckman had brought him pretty near 
the breaking point and that this was the 
psychological moment to crash the flood- 
gates. "If you don't, Moe can tell us — 
and his version may not be so favorable 
to the lady." 

"I'm going to tell the truth," he snapped. 
"Give me time ... It was this way. . . ." 

He began with his accidental and un- 
conventional meeting with Mrs. Shieber, 
which corroborated what she had told me. 

"Then," he went on, "one noon I 
dropped into a barber shop on my way up 
to have dinner with Mrs. Shieber. Moe 
was there getting a shave. I asked what 
he was doing, and he said, 'Nothing.' I 
said to come up and have dinner. He 
said, 'All right.' I called up Mrs. Shieber, 
and she said it was agreeable to her for 
me to bring him . . . We got talking about 
balls and different affairs, and she said: 'I 
have to get an evening gown, I'm going 
to an affair.' We asked her who with, 
and different things like that, and she 
says it was her husband's boss that was 
giving the party. Moe asked her if they 
had any nice rings and jewelry, and she 
said, 'Yes.' Then we left, and Moe said 
to me : 

" 'Talk to her later about the party 
and see what's what, and we'll go up there 



then and take them over [rob them].' " 
Dougherty then went on to describe how 
the gang was gathered. This was to be 
one of those "perfect crimes" crooks dream 
about. Each individual in the mob was 
to be an expert. Dougherty, it was true, 
was an amateur ; it was the first time he 
had fallen for the lure of easy money. 
But since he knew about it, he was taken 
into the racket. 

For the stick-up. they needed a car that 
could be abandoned immediately after the 
crime. Moe engaged Georgie Freud, a 
private chauffeur with an itching palm, 
to steal and drive the crime-car. A good 
strong-arm man was needed for the actual 
robbery and to take care of the men in 
the Wiener car. No one was better suited 
for this than Jack Levy, so he was re- 
cruited. Moe and Levy were both out on 
parole and apt to be. "frisked" for weapons 
at any minute, so they needed badly a man 
to carry the guns and to act as a lookout : 
most of all were they "choosey" in picking 
this man. but they acquired a star when 
they roped in Otto F. Blenk, a traffic cop 
with a spotless record, for that ticklish 
role. 

As Dougherty mentioned the various 
names, officers were dispatched to bring in 
the men. Inspector Duane received in 
grim silence the news that one of the 
stick-up thugs was a member of the police 
department. 

"I'm checking your story with Mrs. 
Shieber's." I said to Dougherty. "If you're 
not trying to put one over on us, you'll 
give the same, answer as she did to the 
next question : 'Did Mrs. Shieber receive 
any of the money?'" 

Just for a second he paused. 

"Y-e-s," he answered hesitantly. "But 
she didn't tenur to take it," he hastened to 
add. "I told her we all got the same, and 
she would have to take it!" 

"What did you do with the gun you used 
in the stick-up?" 

The answer to this came promptly. "I 
gave it to Blenk when we went over to 
Levy's apartment to look at the jewelry. 
It was an old gun I picked up in a vacant 
lot. It was rusty and loose all over." 

IN admitting his own guilt and implicat- 
ing his confederates in order to shield 
Mrs. Shieber, Dougherty seemed to be giv- 
ing us a straight story ; but experience has 
shown us that you can't put much reliance 
on preliminary statements. It's only by 
checking one against the other, and then 
hoisting the whole gang on the wagon to 
fight the thing out in each other's presence, 
that you get mighty near the truth. 

Captain Bruckman left the room and re- 
turned with Mrs. Shieber, who went right 
up to Dougherty and put her hands on his 
shoulders. 

"Oh. Jay," she said, disregarding every- 
body else in the room, "I'm awfully sorry 
you've gotten into this trouble !" 

He patted her arm. "Never mind," — and 
he summoned up a watery grin. "They 
can't do anything to you. I've given them 
the whole truth, that Moe just happened 
to hear you mention . . . ." 

But we weren't going to allow any 
coaching. 

Captain Bruckman promptly ordered an 
officer to take Jay into a prison cell, and 
(Continued on page 12) 



True Detective Myster 



71 




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then Mrs. Shieber's real examination began. 

With a few expected variations, she 
practically corroborated Dougherty's entire 
account. She contradicted herself fre- 
quently, and it took some time to get her 
statement into coherent order ; but finally 
that was accomplished and taken down by 
the stenographer. 

By the time she had finished, the officers 
had arrived with Georgie Freud, the chauf- 
feur of the hold-up, and were holding him 
in a cell. 

FROM the start Georgie seemed to real- 
ize that the game was up, and he 
formulated his statement accordingly. He 
acknowledged his complicity without much 
prodding on my part, but he was a taciturn, 
vindictive little fellow and quickly pro- 
ceeded to throw a monkey-wrench into the 
mechanism of the stories told by Dough- 
erty and Mrs. Shiebcr. 

It was, he insisted, Jay who had asked 
him to pick up a car, and he denied know- 
ing "any person of the name of Moe 
Auswaks." (The quotation marks enclose 
Georgie's expressions.) So far as know- 
ing any of the details of the perfect crime, 
"in front of me they did not discuss such 
things." Oh, yes, in answer to a little 
further pressure, he admitted that when 
"the Wiener folks came out of their resi- 
dence half an hour after he arrived with 
the borrowed car, there seemed to be a 
little excitement as they entered their Lin- 
coln," but he was "not interested." Not 
being a "nosey guy," he remained behind 
his wheel, according to his account, and 
drove the four men off, as he had been en- 
gaged to do. 

Both Dougherty and Mrs. Shieber had 
stated that Georgie was present in Smiling 
Henry's Restaurant on the afternoon Jay 
gave Mrs. Shieber her share of the spoils, 
but he "didn't see any money transaction 
going on." So far as joining in the con- 
versation with Mrs. Shieber and Dough- 
erty about the five men in the stick-up, 
he "didn't care to converse with her 
about it." 

"When did you last see Jay?" I asked 
him. 

A scornful jerk of his shoulders ex- 
pressed what he thought of Jay, whom 
he had known since each was about nine 
years old. "I haven't been speaking to 
him for quite some time," he said. 

Detectives have a different version of 
the saying: "When thieves fall out, hon- 
est men get their own." Theirs is : "When 
crooks fall out, beware of their squeals." 
So, though many of Freud's statements did 
not jibe with those of Jay's, and though he 
had a singularly conveniently weak mem- 
ory, we were well content with what we 
got. 

When Police Officer Blenk was brought 
in off his beat and confronted with Dough- 
erty and Freud, he stoutly but calmly de- 
nied having had anything to do with the 
crime. 

The gun, too, he explained away very 
easily. It had been given to him by a 
garage washer, not by Dougherty. The 
garage washer had given it to him because 
he was afraid that he might get into trouble 
through owning it, he said. It had been in 
his (Blenk's) house for about eight months. 

He said he didn't even know Jack Levy, 
to whose house Dougherty claimed he had 



gone with them to look over the loot imme- 
diately after the robbery. 

By that time it was getting late. I left 
the station-house. Dougherty and Freud 
were under arrest, and Mrs. Shieber was 
later held on $25,000 bail as a material 
witness. 

Assistant District Attorney Foley tackled 
Otto Blenk in the presence of Inspector 
Duane. The policeman steadfastly denied 
taking any part in the hold-up, and would 
have explained the whole thing away, but 
for a conspicuous lack of any motive why 
the two young confessed robbers should 
ha*'e dragged him into the case if he were 
innocent. 

At midnight, Police Commissioner 
Grover Whalen, Chief Inspector O'Brien, 
Foley and I gathered again in the station- 
house, where we were joined by Mr. and 
Mrs. Wiener. 

Otto Blenk was just then due to come 
off duty. I had a little talk with the Chief 
Inspector about him. 

"Maybe Blenk is innocent of the stick- 
up," I said, "but in my opinion things look 
pretty black for him, and I believe he will 
make a statement if we handle him right. 
When he goes up to the desk to report to 
the Lieutenant, have the Lieutenant order 
him and the other men to lay their guns on 
the desk. Let the Lieutenant explain that 
it is an order from Commissioner Whalen 
to have all the guns gone over to see that 
they are clean and in good working order. 

"If Blenk is guilty, he may feel des- 
perate and try to shoot his way out. Those 
quiet fellows are apt to be dangerous. 

"Then order Blenk to wait a while in 
the inner office. We are going to give 
him a third degree that he has never wit- 
nessed, and he is going to be the victim. 
Don't let anybody speak to him or answer 
any questions he may put. If that doesn't 
break him, 111 be surprised 1" 

This was agreed upon. 



B' 



m an inner room 
quite nonchalantly. He was no fool, 
and must have guessed that something was 
due to come off. However, as a steady 
procession of prisoners and witnesses and 
detectives slowly passed him, anyone could 
see that he was getting more uncomfort- 
able every second. 

What was going on in the room beyond, 
where Dougherty and Freud were evi- 
dently again being questioned? The more 
he brooded about things, the blacker they 
seemed. . . . The street where the Wieners 
lived was well lighted, and he had stood 
directly under an arc-light. Did they 
recognize him? Mrs. Wiener's eyes had 
appeared startled when she looked at him 
just now. Wiener had looked at him with 
contempt. That grim look about the Com- 
missioner's mouth meant business, Deputy 
Chief Inspector Mulrooney's usually calm 
blue eyes looked like steel. . . . 

It was very quiet in the station-house, 
and the tick-tack of the clock sounded like 
a trip-hammer beating on our tensed nerves. 
During the very long three-quarters of an 
hour that followed with agonizing slow- 
ness, once or twice the silence was broken 
when an officer entered and dragged a 
prisoner into the cell quarters. 

Blenk was just about boiling over when 
Inspector Mulrooney and I strolled cas- 
(Con tinned on page 74) 



True Detective Mysteries 



73 



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74 



True Detective Mysteries 



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tinned from page 72) 



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ually into the room where he was sitting. 

He rose from his chair and almost stag- 
gered forward. 

"Inspector ... I want ... to talk !" 

Inspector Mulrooney's tall, spare figure 
stiffened. His deep-set eyes bored like gim- 
lets into those of the trembling man before 
him. Without a word, he made as if to 
pass on. 

"Chief, I'll tell you the truth! All of 
it ! It wasn't the way they said. . . ." 
Mulrooney, who had paused at the second 
appeal, shrugged and made as if to walk 
on. "/ was in it. . . ." 

"We'll attend to you later," the Inspec- 
tor said with merciless brevity; and we left 
the man with only his disturbed conscience 
to keep him company. 

In everybody's life there are misdeeds 
they are anxious to keep secret. Was Blenk 
thinking of some of those which were other 
than the Wiener stick-up? 

Blenk knew that when the police start 
to investigate a man or woman's private 
life, they don't miss a single cupboard or 
secret panel in seeking the skeleton. 

WHETHER or not the disgraced officer 
was thinking of all these things, I do 
not know. What I surmised I based on the 
man's agitation. It was the frequent con- 
fidences made me by prisoners who had 
experienced the "silent treatment" third 
degree that had prompted me to try it on 
Blenk. 

I suggested to the Chief Inspector that 
Officer Blenk be suspended before he was 
permitted to make his statement. This 
would save the Department the disgrace 
of having one of its members placed under 
arrest. 

This was done. Blenk was stripped, si- 
lently, of all insignia and then brought into 
the inner room, where, in the presence of 
Police Commissioner Whalen, Chief In- 
spector O'Brien, Assistant District Attor- 
ney Foley, Deputy Chief Inspector Mul- 
rooney and Captain Bruckman, I listened to 
his confession. 

He tackled the job rather breathlessly— 
like a diver shooting off into dangerous 
waters. 

"One night I was working last winter," 
he began a little incoherently, without wait- 
ing for a question. "This was when I 
was working Leggett Avenue. Georgie 
Freud approached me and asked me if I 
wanted 'to step,' and I said, 'What do you 
mean?' He said, 'Want you to carry a 
couple of guns; we have something over 
here to take over.' I said I didn't know, 
and he said, 'Want to make two thousand 
dollars?' And I said again. I didn't know. 
Then he brought the other two, Moe and 
the big fellow, Jay. 

"Finally I said, 'AH right, I'll do it!'" 

He went on to describe the hold-up. In 
every way he sought to shield himself, but 
in all the essentials his statement fitted ex- 
actly that of Dougherty. 

Little Moe was brought in the following 
day. Moe is an undersized fellow, with a 
bald head, pimply face, and small, cruel, 
catlike eyes. He has an ingratiating man- 
ner and though he poses as a guileless fel- 
low there isn't a sharper crook in the 
underworld. 

According to Jay's statement. Moe was 
the one who ordered the party to "stick 'em 
up," and Levy was the one who said, "Look 



at me again and I'll plug you" or words 
to that effect, and stripped the jewels off 
Mrs. Wiener. 

Right here is an example of what the 
police are up against in stick-up cases. 
There we had a robbery committed under 
a bright arc-light by unmasked highway 
robbers in the presence of a handful of 
intelligent persons — and not one of the 
party could identify them! In spite of 
their statements and admissions that they 
had committed the crime, Mrs. Wiener 
seemed to find it hard to believe that such 
a frank-looking young man as Dougherty, 
or such a polite, trig chauffeur as Georgie 
Freud, or such an ingratiating, simple- 
looking soul as Moe, could have done such 
a thing. Blenk had been standing near 
Pegler, so we were not so surprised that 
they could not identify him; but we were 
disgusted that Pegler couldn't. 

Luckily, we had their statements. And 
luck was with us again when Mrs. Wiener 
and Jack Levy were brought face to face. 
Mrs. Wiener took one good, shuddering 
look at his tough mug and nodded her 
head. 

"That's the man! I'd never forget his 
terrible face in a thousand years!" 

I say luck was with us, because Levy 
had refused pointblank to make a state- 
ment. 

So there we were. We had on our hands 
four men, unidentified, but who had all 
made statements ; and one man who refused 
to make a statement, denying in fact that 
he had anything to do with the crime, but 
who was positively identified! 

WHEN the case came to trial, it looked 
as if we would have an easier time 
with Levy than with the other four ! All 
pleaded not guilty, and this automatically 
robbed the statements of their efficacy. 

Mrs. Shieber had been held as a mate- 
rial witness under $25,000 bail. Jack 
Levy's wife, a telephone operator, was also 
held for questioning. 

We did our utmost to persuade Jay 
Dougherty to plead guilty and take the 
stand against his confederates. He was 
adamant. His lawyer had informed him, 
he said, that he would "spring" him, and 
he wasn't going to squeal. 

He persisted in this attitude, and the case 
went to trial in the latter part of last May. 
Freud and Dougherty were tried first. 
Freud had pleaded guilty to robbery in the 
second degree, but Dougherty was confi- 
dent that he would get off lightly as a 
first offender. He had had no experience 
with Bronx juries! 

Now a peculiar thing happened. The 
Bronx court. District Attorney's office and 
jail are located in an old loft building, and 
it is possible for prisoners in a certain nart 
of the jail to overhear the deliberations in 
the jury room.' 

Dougherty learned that the jurymen 
sitting on his case took a much graver 
view of his crime than he himself did, and 
were unanimous for convicting him with no 
recommendations for leniency. 

A few minutes before they returned to 
court, Dougherty, accordingly, sent word 
to me through his counsel that he wanted 
to plead guilty. I had him brought to my 
office at once and received his promise to 
go on the stand and testify against Blenk, 
Moe Auswaks and Jack Levy. 



True Detective Mysteries 



75 



This information was conveyed to the 
judge. He instructed the jury, who entered 
just at that moment, to render their ver- 
dict against Georgie Freud alone. So 
Dougherty beat the barrier by an inch! 

Subsequently Dougherty reneged on his 
promise. Blenk, Auswaks and Levy had 
brilliant counsel, and we were very anxious 
to have the two dangerous criminals, Aus- 
waks and Levy, put away for a long term, 
and to obtain for Blenk the most severe 
sentence that could be given a first 
offender. 

I called in Mrs. Dougherty, Jay's mother, 
and requested her aid, when we found that 
neither appeals to his love for his mother 
nor his sense of honor prevailed with him. 

Mrs. Dougherty listened carefully to all 
I had to say. I explained to her the ad- 
vantage of her son's fulfilling his promise, 
and our suspicions that some member of the 
underworld had managed to intimidate him. 
"Wouldn't she, his mother, do her best to 
make him see his duty, appeal to his con- 
science, and show him how much it would 
profit him to do as we requested?" we 
urged. 

She looked at me belligerently. 

"Sure, and I won't do anything of the 
kind I" she snapped. " 'Twas vie that told 
him to take the stand against himself and 
tell the truth, but not to squeal against 
the other men. I don't want to have my 
b'y hit over the head with an iron bar 
some day when he is in the pen. I know 
all about what happens to squealers, and 
how the underworld rides 'em in jail! - ' 

These terms of crookdom sounded in- 
describably strange, coming from the lips 
of the gentle old lady who was fight- 
ing for what she considered her son's good. 
I explained to her, however, that we would 
take good care that Jay would go to a 
different institution from the one where 
Levy, Auswaks and Blenk were sent. And 
this turned the trick. 

Jay took the stand against himself and 
against his confederates. 

He was found guilty of second degree 
robbery, and sentenced to a term of eight 
to twelve years. Blenk was given from 
fifteen to thirty years; Auswaks, fifteen to 
thirty years ; and Levy, twenty-five years, 
added to which were the eight years of his 
old unserved sentence. 

THE investigation on the Wiener case 
was as fine a piece of police work as I 
have ever seen, and I want to give credit 
to all the men working on it under Inspec- 
tor Duane. These were Captain Bruck- 
man, who had charge of the case ; Lieu- 
tenant Michael MacHargan, Officers Burns, 
Cronin, Miller and Gannon. 

Also, to Assistant District Attorney 
Foley, who won the convictions with their 
heavy sentences. 

The judge severely excoriated Mrs. 
Shieber at the end of the trial. 

"I am going to discharge you," he said 
in crushing tones, "but I am not going to 
give you any compensation for the time 
'you have spent in detention as a material 
witness. . . . You know my opinion of 
you . . ." 

Was she crushed? I don't believe so. 
Rather, she looked a bit bored, and one 
of the first questions she asked after 
Dougherty was sent away was the names 
of the visiting days at that penitentiary. 
Like the heroine of the play, The Incorri- 
gible Lady, she hid well any embarrassment 



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True Detective Mysteries 




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she felt over the ignominy of her position. 

I would like to quote an editorial that 
appeared in one of New York's leading 
morning newspapers the day following 
Bleak's sentence. Under the heading. 
Whpi a Wolf Mingles With the Fleck, 
the editorial writer says : 

"The most dangerous enemy is the one 
within the gates, the wolf who mingles 
in the flock. An example was the police- 
man who took advantage of his knowing 
the ins and outs of the criminal world to 
rob five people, guests at a dinner party 
four months ago. He has just been sen- 
tenced to fifteen years in jail. 

"A volume of rebuke was packed in the 
phrases of the judge, who said, simply: 

" 'You violated the confidence placed 
in you.' 

"The judge then congratulated the 
police for their zeal in ridding their ranks 
of a member who had turned traitor 



to themselves as well as to the public. 

"We have progressed a long way from 
the times when corrupt watchmen were 
in league with desperadoes and thieves to 
plunder the citizens. Instances such as 
the above are happily rare. It augurs 
well for humanity when men appointed 
amongst them to protect life and goods 
are so seldom accused of malfeasance 
..''The spirit of the New York police is 
sound. They manifest good-will, helpful- 
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few may exceed their power, when they 
feel power in their hands, but the over- 
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Dope — Scourge of the Underworld 

(Continued from page 64) 



sent, unless by direction of a duly 
licensed physician, is guilty of a 
FELONY. 

By making the charge a felony, the 
prisoner can be held for forty-eight hours 
so that the narcotic can be analyzed. When 
the case comes into court, the charge is 
changed to a misdemeanor. 

After Gordon's arrest and disappearance, 
two empty trunks, similar to the one seized 
with the opium, were returned from 
St. Louis and received at the Grand Cen- 
tral Terminal. These two trunks con- 
tained the wrappers in which the balls of 
gum opium had been done up, and they 
also contained compartments to hold bottles. 

It was discovered that during the few 
months prior to his arrest Gordon received 
more than $100,000 by zvire from St. Louis, 
and on the day of his arrest he displayed 
$60,000 in onc-thousand-dollar bills. 

THE arrest of Gordon occurred on April 
20th, 1921. He was not heard of again 
until September, 1922. In a shooting affray 
in St. Louis that month he was shot in 
front of the left ear, the bullet passing 
out through his left eye. He was in the 
hospital for several months. 

The shooting was said to have been the 
outcome of Gordon's being sent to St. Louis 
with several other New York gunmen for 
the purpose of trying to exterminate the 
followers of a rival leader in gangdom, as 
by eliminating these the other ring would 
be in a better position to carry on their 
illegal traffic in narcotics. 

The original New York charge against 
Gordon being a State offense, a misde- 
meanor, and not extraditable, and owing to 
the fact that he was reputed to be a big 
illicit dealer and interstate smuggler of 
narcotics, it was deemed advisable to make 
a Federal case out of it. There is, of 
course, no necessity for extradition between 
States for a violation of a Federal law, as 
the place where the offense occurred is the 
"United States." 

The evidence was laid before the United 
States Grand Jury, and Gordon was in- 
dicted and brought back to New York. 
Again he was released on bail. Before his 



case came to trial he was again caught, 
in a western city, on a similar case, by the 
Federal narcotic unit ; was convicted on 
this and sent to a U. S. penitentiary. 

The New York case was eventually 
called for trial on June 5th, 1924, and in 
view of the fact that Gordon was then 
serving a term in a Federal prison, the 
case was marked off the calendar. His 
smuggling career is, at least, checked. 

THERE is another important phase of 
the smuggling game — getting narcotics 
to addict inmates in penal institutions. 

At times the supply of drugs in prisons 
is so abundant that not only are the old- 
timers kept "comfortable," but new addicts 
are made. I have met many addicts who 
claimed to have acquired the habit while 
in "stir." There are many angles to this, 
and innumerable methods of getting 
the contraband through ; on each one could 
be written a story. Despite all precautions, 
and no matter how strict be the wardens, 
there is a never-ending supply of dope 
finding its way to users in prison — occa- 
sionally temporarily checked by discovery. 
An instance will suffice here : 

On several occasions, narcotic detectives 
received information from former inmates 
of the Tombs prison, in the heart of lower 
New York, regarding illicit traffic in nar- 
cotics by a prison keeper, who had been 
assigned for some time to the narcotic tier, 
his hours being from 4 P. M. to 12 mid- 
night. This was in 1926. On checking up 
the information received from various 
sources, it was found that it all agreed on 
the main points. 

In substance, the information was that 
when the prison physician was depart- 
ing for the day, he would leave with this 
keeper a supply of morphine tablets, with 
strict instructions for their distribution at 
certain times to the various drug sufferers 
confined on that tier. Instead of follow- 
ing such directions, the keeper would hold 
out numerous tablets, and in so doing would 
have a large supply on hand, which he 
would sell at a high figure to those drug 
addicts who were able to pay large sums 
of money for this extra supply! 

Not content with the profits from this 



True Detective Mysteries 



77 



source, it was learned that he was bring- 
ing in a supply of heroin in "deck" form, 
;;iid also in ounces. This heroin was much 
more in demand, as the tablets received 
from the prison physician were only mor- 
phine and did not so well satisfy the crav- 
ings of the heroin addicts. 

For fear of being caught carrying the 
heroin into the prison, the keeper made 
arrangements with a drug peddler on the 
outside, who would put the narcotic in a 
lubber ball, as directed by the keeper, 
which would be thrown over the wall into 
the prison yard. 

The matter was taken up at a conference 
in which the police narcotic bureau. Fed- 
eral narcotic agents, the warden and prison 
physician participated ; and a plan of cam- 
paign was worked out. It was concluded 
that in order to obtain proper evidence 
against the keeper, it would be necessary 
lo have two officers, unknown in New 
York, committed to the Tombs apparently 
in the regular way; it would be inadvisable 
to assign New York narcotic men to this 
work owing to the possibility of their be- 
ing recognized, thus defeating the purpose. 
It was also decided that it would be im- 
portant to obtain competent corroboration 
by trained officers so that there would be 
no doubt or question as to the testimony. 

Two Federal narcotic men, accordingly, 
were selected from the South and brought 
to New York. These men were picked out 
because of their ability to carry the risky 
undertaking through successfully, and also 
because of their ability to make up an ap- 
pearance to simulate narcotic drug addicts. 
The purpose of this precaution was to be 
positive that they would not be recognized, 
for upon this depended the outcome. 

THE two men selected were, under as- 
sumed names arraigned before a U. S. 
Commissioner and sent to the Tombs for 
detention as Federal prisoners by United 
States Marshal Mulligan. This procedure 
had every appearance of regularity, and 
every precaution was taken to prevent a 
leak. Before being taken to the Tombs, 
each of the agents was given $100 in 
marked bills, copies of the serial numbers 
being made. 

Arriving at the prison, they were placed 
in a cell together. 

After numerous conversations with in- 
mates relative to how they could obtain 
narcotics, a purchase was made from an- 
other inmate. Later they succeeded in 
making connections with the keeper, and 
both men bought from him on several 
occasions, during the three days of their 
incarceration, one-eighth morphine sulphate 
tablets at $1 each. When they complained 
about paying so much money for drugs, 
they were quickly reminded by the keeper 
that they were not on the street now, but 
were in prison, and had to pay highly for 
anything they received. (Paying $1 for 
one-eighth grain is equivalent to $3,496 an 
ounce.') 

The keeper was arrested and eventually 
sent to a penitentiary. 

In the investigation of this case, inci- 
dentally, many other irregularities were 
discovered, which, while not germane to 
the subject of narcotic smuggling, are 
nevertheless interesting. Prisoners who 
had no money received absolutely no priv- 
ileges, and if they complained they were 
ill-treated or beaten up. Here is the then 
prevailing tariff for privileges: 




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78 



True Detective Mysteries 




crai 



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$20 for a blanket. 
10 to exchange cells. 
1 for a package of cigarettes. 
1 for a newspaper. 
1 for permission to leave cell to 
engage in a crap game. 

'wo of the keepers took part in these 
) games, and their share was 25 per cent, 
the winnings. In addition to this, they 
aged in these games witli loaded dice. 



BEFORE the passage of the Harrison 
Act, the smuggling of narcotics had 
not reached the gigantic proportions it now 
presents. There was no big money in it. 
Most of the derivatives then used were of 
American manufacture. The addict got his 
"script" from doctors and had them filled 
at the corner pharmacy. Many unscrup- 
ulous physicians did a land office business, 
charging as low as fifty cents a head. 
T .ere would be a steady stream of these 
patients all day long. The physician never 
examined them or even looked them over — 
just handed out the prescriptions as asked 
for by the addicts. Some physicians even 
had assistants (not even doctors) to help 
in writing out the prescriptions. 

It is a long story — from those days to 
the present. Various antinarcotic laws 
and ordinances have been passed, some of 
them on erroneous premises but which may 
be classed as experimental. Seldom, now, 
are physicians or druggists involved : only 
in isolated cases. The dope game is now 
an underworld racket. 

Times have changed. The world has 
advanced. So has its shadow — the under- 
world. In the olden days, there was little 
of prosperity in that shady land of dens 
and dives. But now the underworld is 
on a big money basis, and its boasted 
leaders are comparable to the captains of 
industry in the realms of business and 
finance. 

These high-rollers of organized gang- 
land sport high-powered automobiles, 
dwell in high-class apartments and hotels, 
and hang out in luxurious night clubs. 
Smuggling, bootlegging, hijacking and 
racketeering may be classed among the 
giant industries of America. 

No statistics are available or possible, 
but a little figuring will prove the truth 
of this assertion. The underworld is made 
up of those who oppose the laws of the 
land, chiefly of those whose livelihood de- 
pends upon lawbreaking. Naturally, there- 
fore, when the most profitable way to beat 
the antinarcotic and Prohibition laws was 
found to be through smuggling, it was an 
easy matter to recruit volunteers. 

On September 7th, 1922, the then Secre- 
tary of State of the United States, Charles 
E. Hughes, in a communication to the 
Netherlands Government, asserted that 
smuggling is virtually the whole source of 
narcotics illegally used in the United 
States ; that almost none of the narcotics 
manufactured here or legally imported get 
into improper channels ; that the particular 
difficulty facing the administration of nar- 
cotic laws is the persistent smuggling of all 
forms of narcotics from foreign countries; 
that the control of their legal manufacture 
and sale within the United States is so 
effective that there is very little or no 
leakage, all persons who may lawfully deal 
in narcotics being licensed and registered, 
and the laws and regulations being very 
drastic and detailed in providing for inspec- 



tion and reports of all legal sales. 

Anyone who has knowledge of the 
narcotic situation in this country will 
confirm every word of Secretary Hughes. 
Not only are his statements true, but the 
proof lies in the big fact that the total 
amount of narcotics properly used or re- 
quired in the United States is minute in 
comparison with the vast quantities illicitly 
consumed in this country. 

On display in the office of the Narcotic 
Bureau at New York City Police Head- 
quarters are two glass tubes filled with 
heroin. One is about the size of a gam- 
bling dice ; the other about a foot in each 
dimension. The smaller cube represented 
the amount used legitimately only a few 
years ago ; the larger cube showed propor- 
tionately the quantity illegitimately used. 

Since those cubes were made up, Con- 
gress has passed a law prohibiting the im- 
portation of opium "for the purpose of 
manufacturing heroin," so that heroin is 
no longer made in this country, and none 
is imported; therefore, no legitimate use 
of heroin is now recognized. There has 
been, however, no reduction in the illegiti- 
mate demand, or its supply or use. All the 
law has accomplished is to deprive the 
legitimate user of his needed medicine. 

The intent and purpose of the law were 
to outlaw heroin and check its unlawful 
use. It was a wasted gesture. The intent 
and purpose have not been achieved. For 
certain medicinal requirements, heroin was 
the best remedy known. There is no sub- 
stitute of equal virtue in the entire phar- 
macopoeia for certain respiratory troubles. 
For instance, "GlycoAeroin," (which was 
obtainable on prescription) was one of the 
best cough remedies known. It is still 
manufactured, but called "Glycofceroin," — a 
change in one letter having been made, h to 
k; but the heroin has been eliminated and 
codein substituted. 

Ask any veterinarian how effective they 
found heroin in relieving sick animals who 
found difficulty in breathing. 

The medical profession was willing to 
waive its right to prescribe heroin for pa- 
tients where they believed it would be 
beneficial, and endorsed the proposal to 
taboo heroin, in the honest belief that it 
would help wipe out the curse of heroin 
addiction. But the heroin addicts contin- 
ued on their accustomed way, not affected 
one iota by the widely heralded Act of 
Congress. There was not a ripple of ex- 
citement in the underworld, not a raise 
of the fraction of a cent in the price, not 
a suspicion of worry about any shortage 
in the supply ! The lawmakers did not 
recognize the facts stated by Secretary 
Hughes — that the leakage from American 
sources was trivial and insufficient to sup- 
port unlawful narcotic addiction. 

In the meantime, the innocent must suf- 
fer and not the guilty, and the medical 
profession and their suffering patients are 
deprived of a wonderful drug for specific 



THE big narcotic problem is, therefore, 
how to stop the smuggling of narcotic 
drugs. It would be still better, if prac- 
ticable, to get back to the source, and con- 
trol the plant cultivation and production; 
but that is an international problem for dip- 
lomats to solve. There the difficulty is. 
that the plants grow in some countries 
where local government control would be 
very ineffective, if not impossible. The 



True Detective Mysteries 



79 



best opium— with largest morphia content — 
is produced in turbulent Asia Minor and 
Persia. Of all varieties, the richest in 
alkaloids is known as "Smyrna" opium. 

What is the motive for smuggling? 

Profit — is the answer. 

Wherever the demand will pay the price, 
individuals will be found willing to take 
the risk of running coast and border pa- 
trols and customs guards to bring in 
diamonds, liquors or deadly drugs. 

What profit is there in the smuggling 
of narcotics? The legitimate commercial 
price of cocaine and morphine in this 
country (and of heroin before it was out- 
lawed) is between $7 and $8 an ounce. In 
Kurope the smugglers can buy these nar- 
cotics as cheaply as 50 cents an ounce — 
anywhere from $12.50 to $50 a kilo, about 
two and one-fifth pounds. On the other 
hand, the average street-vending price (in 
New York City) of the same drugs, is 
$8 to $10 a "quarter" vial, and $25 to 
$60 an ounce ! 

Some of the so-called "high-class" or 
"society" addicts, the idle rich, professional 
men and women, stage or screen stars, and 
those of like ilk who are secret worship- 
ers of the idols in the pantheon of drug 
addiction, pay the highest prices for their 
drugs because they do not themselves risk 
their liberty by personally attempting to 
purchase from street venders. They deal 
through private purveyors who can make 
safe deliveries without endangering or ex- 
posing their choice customers. 

At the other extreme, the poor gutter- 
type addicts who are forced to buy by the 
"deck," also pay at an exorbitant rate. 
Made up into "decks," an ounce will pro- 
duce from 50 to 100 decks, which retail at 
$1 to $3 a "deck." In appearance, a "deck" 
is like a diminutive Seidlitz powder. The 
enormous profits can be realized more fully 
when it is remembered that these "decks" 
contain at least 50 per cent, adulteration, 
usually sugar-of-niilk. Some distributors 
buy by apothecaries' weight, twelve ounces 
to the pound ; selling by avoirdupois weight, 
sixteen ounces to the pound. 

1 will repeat what I said in my first 
article in this series : 

A conservative estimate of the number 
of drug addicts in the United States 
places them at 2,000,000. On an average, 
they pay per person $25 weekly for their 
drugs. 

That gives us an annual narcotic item 
of $2,600,000,000! 

If to this we unite the huge returns from 
rum-running, and for the bringing in, clan- 
destinely, of forbidden or highly dutied 
importations, and of Chinese and other 
aliens barred by immigration restrictions, 
we can realize from the total receipts that 
smuggling must be a profitable business. 
When women wore more decorative head- 
gear, there were enough aigrets and birds 
of paradise sneaked in to provide adorn- 
ment for every feminine head in the land ! 

STATISTICS show that about 80 per 
cent, of drug addicts have criminal 
records. The incomes of these criminals 
are to a large extent the proceeds of crime, 
chiefly from larcenies and burglaries. The 
yield of loot, cashed through fences, pawn- 
brokers, and like channels, is from one- 
fifth to one-twentieth the commercial valu- 
ation of the stolen property. This will give 
some idea of the cost of drug addiction. 
But that is not all. There should be in- 



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Dept. MfcJ. Pittsburgh. Pa., 

Home FurnUhert to the 
People of America 
for 36 Yearm 




SPEAR 4*. CO., Dept. M 63, Pittsburgh, Pa. 
Send me at once the Coil Spring Automatic Da-Bed described 
above. Enclosed is SI first payment. It is understood that, after 
30 days trial, if 1 am satisfied, I will send you $2.50 monthly. 
Order No. G A 1228. Price $24.95. Title remains with 
you until paid in full. 



Name.. 



R.F.D.. 
Box No. or / 
Street and No. I 



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Post Office State — 

F REE I M wan1 our FHCE •! Home Furnishings r"~l 



80 



True Detective Mysteries 



f REE/ to Women 
who love Flowers 



Materials 

and 

Directions 
for making 

SWEET 

PJEAS 



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DENNISON'S, Dept. 145-L 
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Please send me free sample Instructions 
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Street or R.F.D 

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eluded in the calculations the so-called 
"economic wastage" due to these individuals 
living by their wits instead of being em- 
ployed in productive occupations, and. 
further, the cost of maintaining thousands 
of these lawbreakers at public expense in 
penal institutions and hospitals. 

The difficulty in preventing the smug- 
gling of narcotics is particularly great, the 
drugs being so easily concealed and their 
values so enormous in proportion to their 
weight. 

"For instance," says the Commissioner 
of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in 
his annual report, "at Vancouver, when 



the watch on the ships in port became so 
vigilant as to incommode the smugglers, 
the trick was invented of dropping over- 
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eral Government to suppress 



How I Solved 
the Infamous Greenwaldt Mystery 



(Continued from page 27) 



naturally lie in such a case, to protect the 
girl if for no other reason. 

But the scheme worked out as we wanted 
it to. Greenwaldt came to me, his feel- 
ings badly hurt. 

"I don't like that man, Dieden," he 
whined. "He came out pointblank and ac- 
cused me of murdering Emma ! My God, 
do people really think I could have done 
that?" 

"I don't know, Al," I said. "You know, 
the circumstances look rather queer, and 
until we find the real murderer no one 
knows whom to suspect." 

That night he startled me by offering a 
reward of $1,000 for information leading 
to the arrest and conviction of the mur- 
derer of his wife. At first I didn't know 
what to think. I finally came to the con- 
clusion that it might be merely a gesture 
on his part to cause others to think him 
innocent. 

Three or four times each day, I had 
someone coached to go in and harshly 
question him. These inquisitors accused 
him outright of killing his wife, or in other 
ways showed him they thought him guilty. 
The desired results were obtained in every 
instance. He would come to me pouring 
out his tale of woe. 

I could tell by the strained look on his 
face that this treatment was affecting him 
deeply. If the reader will make a com- 
parison of Greenwaldt's picture, posed with 
me (reproduced in last month's True 
Detective Mysteries), and the one of him 
at the funeral with his wife's parents 
(shown on page 25 this issue), and note 
his drawn, haggard look in the latter pic- 
ture, he will better understand the terrific 
mental ordeal Greenwaldt passed through. 
This change in his features took place 
within four days. 

I continued to show sympathy for him 
and treat him kindly. He actually clung to 
me as though I were the only friend he had 
in the world. 

ABOUT this time a new development 
cropped up that gave promise of an 
immediate solution. A reporter for the Mil- 
waukee Journal learned that an unusually 
tall man had got on the rapid transit car 
going west just a block away from where 
Greenwaldt's car was found, the night of 
the murder. This car left the Public Ser- 
vice building at 11:30 P. M. and stopped 
at Twenty-Seventh Street and Clybourn 



Street four minutes later, at 11:34 P. M. 

Mrs. George Funk, who lives at 508 
Glcnwood Drive, Waukesha, said that 
Greenwaldt looked very much like a tall 
man who bumped into her as she waited 
for the car at Twenty- Seventh and Cly- 
bourn. Louis Schrank, of Watertown, 
motor-man on the car, said he recalled the 
tall man. Mrs. Funk made frequent trips 
on his car, and was well-known, and he 
remembered that she and the tall man had 
been the only two passengers who got 
aboard at that point. He said he saw the 
man only through the window, so he 
couldn't be positive, but he "would say" 
the man was Greenwaldt. 

BARNEY NOWATSKI, the conductor, 
said the car carried fifty passengers, 
and he couldn't say whether Greenwaldt 
was the man or not. 

"I think I have seen the man before, 
but I can't say if he is the one that rode 
that night or not," he said. "I remember 
a very tall man whose hat almost touched 
the ceiling." 

Cadet Frank Chartiers, a student at St. 
John's Military Academy at Delafield, was 
also on the car that night, and he made a 
positive identification of Greenwaldt. 
Cadet Harry Dellenbeck, Chartiers' com- 
panion that night, could not identify Green- 
waldt, but thought he recognized the hat 
and coat he wore. 

I questioned Chartiers rather sharply in 
Greenwaldt's presence, because Greenwaldt 
didn't seem to be concerned enough over 
these identifications, simply denying that 
he was on the car that night. 

"Are you sure this is the man?" I asked 
Chartiers. 
"Yes, sir 1" 

"Did you get a good look at the man 
in the car?" 

"I saw him when he got on. When he 
sat down, his coat caught on the seat, and 
when he jerked it away it went around 
him. I was facing him, so I could see him. 
My attention was attracted to him be- 
cause he was so tall. While I was look- 
ing, he took his hat off and wiped his 
face. I would know him by his hat, coat, 
shape of his nose and high forehead. I 
know I'm not mistaken, because I would 
recognize that red face in a million !" 

Mrs. Funk's recollection of the tall man 
was that he got off at Springdale, which 
is only half a mile south of Tad's Tavern, 



True Detective Mysteries 



81 



or at Calhoun, which is three miles farther ] 
east. The train crew insisted he got off al 
the SOO crossing on the eastern outskirts 
of Waukesha. 

Instead of clearing things, this new de- 
velopment merely complicated matters still 
more. Grcenwaldt couldn't leave town at 
11 :34 P. M, call the garage at 12 :30 A. M., 
be in Tacl's Tavern at 12:30 A.M., and 
murder his wife a good hour and a half's 
drive from Milwaukee at 11 :30 P. M. ! 

Permit me to call attention here to 
how easy it is for an innocent man to 
be convicted in just such a way on what 
apparently is a positive identification. 
It was later proved that everyone on that 
car who identified Greenwaldt was 
wrong. 

Greenwaldt was not on the car that 
night. 

An apparently iron-clad case can thus 
be built up around an innocent man by 
other equally innocent persons. The wit- 
nesses may be of the highest character 
and unquestionable integrity, as they 
were in this instance; their only fault, 
the very human and very common one, 
of faulty observation in casual matters. 

It was a puzzle, though, until later de- 
velopments cleared the mystery. 

AS the day of Mrs. Greenwaldt's fu- 
neral approached, Alvin, apparently 
in great sorrow, asked me for permission 
to attend. I readily granted this permis- 
sion, and I instantly recognized it as my 
trump card. 

Down in his heart I really didn't 
believe he wanted to attend. I felt sure 
he made that request to make his be- 
reavement seem more sincere. I can't be- 
lieve that a murderer has any desire to 
view the result of his handiwork, especially 
in the sad atmosphere surrounding a fu- 
neral ; and I was working now on the 
theory that he was guilty. If Greenwaldt 
ivas guilty, I reasoned, he would become 
conscience-stricken and might confess 
when the funeral was over. I felt sure 
that the solemn voice of the minister, the 
hymns of the choir, the bereavement of 
the relatives, would be the one thing that 
might break through that barrier of silence, 
and solve this baffling case. 

There was an enormous crowd at the 
funeral. The widespread publicity of the 
murder drew people from all over. Hun- 
dreds poured their condolences into the 
ears of the weeping husband as he sat 
beside his mother-in-law. He hovered 
near and tenderly consoled the bereaved 
mother throughout the whole ceremony, as 
can be noted in the picture on page 25. 

Never have I witnessed so much sor- 
row and genuine grief take hold of 
a multitude. The church was packed, and 
the overflow filled the yard and most of the 
street. The awed silence that hung over 
everything was oppressive. The droning 
voice of the minister as he delivered a 
eulogy over the remains of Emma Green- 
waldt could be heard by those far out in 
the street. Choking sobs and an occasional 
hysterical cry came from the crowd. Total 
strangers to each other and, in some in- 
stances, to the slain woman, they looked 
at one another with unrestrained tears roll- 
ing down their cheeks. 

At the cemetery, the scene was repeated. 
When the bereaved husband helped the 
sobbing mother tenderly out of the limou 





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sine, my doubt as to Grccnwaldt's guilt 
grew. I doubt if many husbands in this 
world could have borne up under the 
strain, even if innocent. But Greenwaldt 
showed no signs of breaking down. His 
grief showed heavily on his face, but he 
bore up well. So well, in fact, that I al- 
most felt like a criminal for the suspicions 
I had entertained about him. 

When the soft voices of the choir 
blended through the air, there wasn't a dry 
cheek in the throng around the grave. 
Then the minister, Reverend E. R. Ander- 
son, stepped forward. Solemnly, he 
pointed one finger heavenward. In deep 
tones, he said : 

"A Power far mightier than that of man 
will mete out justice. The all-seeing eye 
of the Almighty is resting now u(>on the 
guilty, and they are in travail of soul under 
its scorching gaze !" 

I was watching Greenwaldt closely. His 
eyes made two movements. From beneath 
his lowered head they turned up to look 
at the minister and then rolled to the 
right — before they resumed their downcast 
look again. It was just a flash, and done 
in a fraction of a second ; but there was 
something furtive about it, nevertheless. 

During the ride back to Waukesha, he 
was grief -stricken and silent. If ever a 
man looked conscience-stricken, he did. 
There was a look of mixed horror and 
sorrow in his eyes, while the lines on his 
face made him almost unrecognizable. 

THAT night we put him through another 
severe grilling. He wept and sobbed and 
paced the floor, beating his head with his 
hands and pleading with his questioners to 
let him alone in his time of sorrow. It 
was a terrible ordeal, and the true agony 
in his lined face made me wince at times, 
although I took no part in the questioning. 

But he would not break. He told and 
retold his original story, and even in his 
great sorrow didn't deviate a hair's 
breadth. Doubts rose again in my mind. 
It was impossible, it seemed to me, for a 
man to be guilty and hold out as Green- 
waldt was doing! I gave out a statement 
to the press that unless something new 
turned up by Sunday, Greenwaldt would 
be restrained no longer. I felt that if he 
had nothing to say by that time and no 
new developments rose, the case would go 
down as unsolved. 

The next day was Saturday. I had been 
on this case night and day since Tuesday, 
and felt the need of some relaxation. I 
also decided that in view of the nerve- 
racking hours he had put in Friday, I 
would let Greenwaldt spend the day alone 
with his thoughts and conscience. Accord- 
ingly, I drove to Madison and saw the 
homecoming football game between the 
University of Wisconsin and Chicago. 

It was late when I reached home that 
night. I dropped in on Greenwaldt before 
going to bed, and found him with his head 
buried in the pillow and his shoulders 
shaking with sobs. 

Quietly, I stepped out of the room. 
Early Sunday morning he came over, 
and I decided on one last fling before tell- 
ing him we didn't need him any longer for 
questioning. I began to work on his sym- 
pathies. I saw he had spent a sleepless 
night. 

"Well, Al," I began, "Emma is beyond 
any earthly harm now, isn't she?" 



He raised his tear-stained face to mine, 
but said nothing. 

"It was a sad funeral, wasn't it? Just 
think, Al, this is Sunday. If she were 
alive now, you both would be in church, 
wouldn't you?" 

He nodded, and looked up at me; then, 
shaking his head slowly, he broke down 
completely. I didn't say anything more 
just then. When he had regained his com- 
posure, he said : 

"Will you take me for a ride alone? I 
want to talk things over with you. You 
needn't be afraid of anything." 

IT took all my strength to conceal my 
emotions. Was this to be the long- 
sought-for confession? Was Wisconsin's 
most sensational case about to be cleared 
up? 

I got my car, and we drove out toward 
Tacl's Tavern. We drove on in silence for 
a long time because I decided to let him 
take his own sweet time. Suddenly he 
blurted out : 

"I didn't kill her — myself — but I hired a 
fellow to do it! But I didn't hit her vrith 
a bottle last July — it was really someone 
else!" 

"I believe you, Al, so go ahead and tell 
me all about it. Whom did you hire, and 
how was it done?" I encouraged him. 

"I can't say any more about it. I want 
to think. If you will take me out again 
this afternoon, I will tell you all about it." 

I turned and drove back with him. 
After dinner we started out again. 

"I hired a fellow named Art Kelly to 
do it. He lives at Two-Sixty-Nine Tenth 
Street, Milwaukee, and usually hangs 
around the bus station. Will you take me 
to Jefferson to see a girl friend now, and 
I will tell you all about it afterwards?" 

Although I was itching to get his story, 
I complied with his request. And what a 
request it wasl Here was the man ap- 
parently in the throes of a deep grief, 
and still he wanted to see this "other girl" I 

As soon as we arrived in Jefferson, I 
telephoned the Milwaukee Police Depart- 
ment to apprehend Kelly and hold him as 
the murderer. 

When we left Jefferson again, I parked 
in a quiet place and told Greenwaldt to 
go ahead with his story. He began : 

"I got the idea of killing my wife about 
a week and a half before it happened. 
Checks were coming back, payments were 
due on the mortgage, and a payment was 
clue on my car. / couldn't bear to think of 
giving up the car. I had no quarrel with 
her, no trouble at all. I wanted the ten 
thousand dollars' insurance — you know, we 
had a joint policy. I knew Kelly when we 
were both bus drivers. I knew he had a 
reputation as a tough egg. I went to Mil- 
waukee a day or so later and found Kelly. 
We went for a ride, and I finally asked 
him what he would take to kill my wife. 
He was willing, and we talked it over. I 
agreed to give him five hundred dollars 
when I got my insurance. I suggested 
using my revolver, but he said: 

" 7 don't like to do it that way — but 
I'm a damn good choker. I'll just grab 
her and choke her.' 

'' r pHE thing was planned for the Friday 
1 before it really happened. I drove to 
Milwaukee Friday with my wife, and 
while she was doing something else I got 



True Detective Mysteries 



83 



in touch with Kelly. He said he couldn't 
do it that night because he had a date, so 
we fixed it for Monday night. We drove 
down again Monday, and while my wife 
was shopping I fixed it up with Kelly to 
meet him at Thirteenth and Michigan. 

"My wife and I went to the Wisconsin 
Theater and got out about ten o'clock. 
She knew Kelly by sight as a bus driver. 
I told her he was going to Madison, and 
1 was giving him a lift on the way back. 
She said : 'Are you sure he isn't going on 
through with us, Al? You know we have 
the school-teacher living with us now, and 
have no extra bed.' I said : 'No, he isn't 
going through with us.' 

"When we started for home, I knew 
Kelly was awaiting for me at Thirteenth 
and Michigan. I got to thinking about 
things, and lost my nerve. I didn't think 
I could go through with it. When I 
reached Seventh Street, I turned to the 
right as far as Wisconsin Avenue. There 
I turned left. 

"As I was driving along, my nerve 
came back to me. I turned to the right 
off Wisconsin Avenue on Twelfth Street, 
and drove to Wells. Then I went back 
to Eleventh Street and followed Eleventh 
right across Wisconsin to Michigan 
Street. I turned to the right again on 
Michigan, and when we came to Thir- 
teenth Street I found Kelly waiting for 
us. 

"He got in the car and sat on the out- 
side. My wife sat between us. His left 
arm rested on the seat behind her and me, 
and he started to kid her. They joked 
and laughed all the way. I drove down 
Thirteenth Street to Clybourn, and then 
went west to Twenty-Seventh Street. 
Here we turned south across the viaduct 
to National Avenue. We drove out Na- 
tional Avenue right past the Fair Grounds, 
and hit Highway Eighteen. We were all 
talking and laughing, but this thing was 
on my mind, so I drove slower than usual. 
I know that because my wife said, 'We're 
not driving so fast to-night.' 

"■tlTE went through Waukesha on High- 
■ ■ way Eighteen, and I began to wonder 
when Kelly would do it. We had not 
picked out any particular spot. About half a 
mile before we got to the junction with 
Highway Sixty-Seven, I felt Kelly make 
a move. 

"My zvife suddenly raised her left hand 
to her face, and it fell slozcly back and 
rested on her knee. 

"I didn't think he had done it then, be- 
cause her foot was against mine as it 
rested on the foot feed, and it didn't even 
move. When her left hand went to her 
face and slowly dropped to her knee, that 
was the only move she made when she 
died. I didn't even know she was dead 
until Kelly said: 
" 'Well, Al. the job is done.' 
'"What job's done?' I asked. 
" 'She's dead. What do you want to do 
with her?' 

" 'My God !' I said, and I reached over 
and took her hand in mine. 'I can't — be- 
lieve she is dead. Are you sure? Her 
hand is still warm !' 

"Oh, if that hand could only have 
clutched mine then! But it zvas too late! 

" 'Sure it's warm,' Kelly said. 'It'll be 
warm for an hour or more, but she's all 
through. Her Adam's apple is jabbed clear 



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down in her windpipe. Let's plant her Here 
in the ditch, and someone will find her in 
a hurry.' 

"We saw the head-lights of a car ap- 
proaching then, so we couldn't stop to 
leave the body. I turned up on Highway 
Sixty-Seven, and just before we got to 
that bridge I stopped, and Kelly lifted her 
out and put her beside the road. I wanted 
to be sure she'd be found and get a decent 
burial. 

"Then I got out and tore her bloomers 
to make it look as if she had been 
ravished. I didn't know they could tell by 
examining her that it hadn't been done. 
Then I thought I'd better make it look 
as if she had been robbed, too, so I took 
off her rings and slipped them into my 
pocket. When we were ready to leave, I 
turned again and looked at her once more. 
[ felt so bad. I began to cry. 

" 'She's always been so good to me. and 
we've never had a quarrel. I can't be- 
lieve she is dead !' I said. 

"Kelly said: 'Come on, let's get t'hell 
out of here !' 

"I drove up ahead a little ways and in- 
to a farmer's driveway, and then backed 
out and turned toward Milwaukee again. 
On the way back. Kelly asked me if I had 
any money. I told him I had about three 
dollars. He said: 'Give it to me, because 
we got to make out you were robbed, too.' 

"I gave him the money, and I pulled 
the two rings I had taken from my wife's 
fingers from my pocket and gave them to 
him, too. I got out of the car at the 
curve near Tacl's place, and Kelly drove 
on into Milwaukee alone. I told him to 
leave the car at Twenty-Seventh and Cly- 
bourn, headed south as though it had been 
going to Chicago. 

"After he had gone, I w ; alked over in 
the field and picked up a good-sized rock 
and hit myself on the head. The blow 
knocked me down, and I fell on some other 
rocks, bruising my back. I laid there a 
while, and my clothes got wet and damp 
from the snow. Then I got up and walked 
to Tacl's, and — you know the rest." 

1 COULDN'T conceal a shudder of hor- 
ror when Greenwaldt had finished his 
ghastly tale. What must have been his 
thoughts, as he drove aimlessly, around he- 
fore meeting Kelly, trying to screw up his 
nerve to go through with the terrible 
deed ? 

To give readers a more vivid picture of 
Greenwaldt's route out of town on the 
murder-trip, I have traced in ink, on a 
le streets traveled. This chart is 



reproduced on page 27. Study it a mo- 
ment. 

I don't know how it will strike otheu, 
but to me it is an illuminating picture of 
the conflict between the good and bad in 
Greenwaldt. 

According to his confession, he left the 
bus station on Sixth Street and drove to 
Michigan Street. There he drove west. 
He knew Kelly was waiting for him at 
Thirteenth and Michigan. His nerve 
failed him, and he didn't think he could go 
through with it, so he turned off from 
Michigan on Seventh, and drove one block 
to Wisconsin Avenue. Then, by his own 
admission, his nerve came back. I can 
just picture him making a quick decision 
and deciding to go through with it when 
he reaches Twelfth Street. He can't turn 
to the left to get hack on Michigan again, 
because you will note Twelfth Street isn't 
cut through. Neither docs he care to go 
to Thirteenth and turn left, because that 
zvill Put him on the right side of the street 
at Michigan, and Kelly is waiting on the 
left. Tooting his horn to attract Kelly's 
attention, or stopping there to wait for 
Kelly to cross the street, might be too 
noticeable and remembered by someone. 

All this flashes through his mind, so he 
turns right on Twelfth Street and goes 
one block to Wells Street. Again he turns 
right on Wells and back to Eleventh and 
Michigan. There, near the curb in a dark 
place, he picks up Kelly. 

If he had only heeded that warning 
voice that prompted him to turn on Seventh 
Street, he wouldn't be in Waupun now. 
To me, that erratic course traced in ink 
pictures more clearly than words the 
troubled conscience and indecision of the 
man. 

And what must his wife's thoughts have 
been, as he drove about so aimlessly, 
nerving himself for her destruction? What 
manner of fiends were they, anyway — 
these two big brutes, who could sit talking 
and laughing with the little woman be- 
tween them, while their minds were right 
then contemplating her murder? Then 
Greenwaldt's deep remorse, when he 
looked upon her body, and full realization 
of his crime burst upon him — why had 
he not anticipated that compunction? . . . 
But it was too late, then, and no amount 
of regret could now recall the little wom- 
an who had been so good to him. . . . 

WHEN the Milwaukee police received 
my phone call, Detectives Herman 
Kuhfeldt and Michael Curley started out 
after Kelly. They went first to his room- 



' (Please state whether Mrs. or Miss) 



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True Detective Mysteries 



85 



ing -house at 269 Tenth Street, but he was 
gone. Next they went to a taxi garage 
where he was known to hang out, but no 
one had seen him that morning. Then 
they drove over to the Bluebird bus sta- 
tion, but found no trace of him there. 

Then they went back and checked all 
these places again. When they reached 
the bus station the second time, they drove 
into the alley. They saw a young man 
just about to pull out in a Ford coupe. 

"That looks like him," said Curley. 

"Sure it's him — stop him!" shouted 
Kuhfeldt. 

The grape-vine telegraph had started 
working, and Kelly evidently had heard 
that someone was looking for him. He 
was then just pulling out, and a few min- 
utes later would probably never have been 
apprehended ! But the man gave evidence 
of his iron nerve when the officers ap- 
proached him. 

"Are you Art Kelly?" asked Curley. 

"Yessir, that's me I" he said, grinning. 

"Come along to the station, the Captain 
wants to question you," said Curley. 

"All right, but what's the trouble now?" 
he answered cheerfully, as he switched off 
the motor of his Ford. 

"You'll find out when you get there," 
said Kuhfeldt. 

When they got Kelly to the police sta- 
tion, Captain McCrory, veteran head of 
the Milwaukee detective force, put him 
through a severe grilling. Still with the 
burden of this heinous murder on his soul, 
he remained callous, and denied any knowl- 
edge of it whatever. He treated it all as 
a huge joke, and laughed and shrugged his 
shoulders to think the police should make 
such a mistake and pick him up for any- 
thing like this. When they accused him 
pointblank of the murder, he merely looked 
bored and said : 

"Don't try to kid me !" 

'TMiE iron nerve of the man stood him 
* in such good stead that they began to 
wonder if he really xvas innocent, and if 
Greenwaldt was trying to implicate Kelly 
merely to save his own hide. I hadn't 
arrived in Milwaukee with Greemvaldt's 
confession as yet, so they decided to hold 
him at least until I got there. 

Deputy Sheriff Fred Carlstedt, Green- 
waldt and myself reached Milwaukee a 
little after 5 that afternoon. 

Kelly was brought out for questioning 
again. 1 went over the trip and the 
murder in detail as told to me in Green- 
waldt's confession. I noticed him sober 
momentarily, but the next minute he was 
laughing, and denied any part of it. We 
tried other methods, and had him con- 
tradicting himself, but the cool smile never 
left his face. His attitude was that of one 
who couldn't imagine anything so pre- 
posterous as to be accused of murder. 

We then took him into Captain Mc- 
Crory's office, where Greenwaldt, Captain 
McCrory, John Bauschek, Sergeant Dieden 
and Deputy Carlstedt were sitting. As we 
entered, Greenwaldt spoke up and said : 

"I've told them all about it. Art." 

"All about what?" queried Kelly. 

"About the murder," answered Green- 
waldt. 

Kelly laughed again, and bit off a huge 
mouthful of tobacco. 

I told Greenwaldt to tell his story again. 
As he did so, I kept my eyes glued to 



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86 



True Detective Mysteries 





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Kelly's face to see what reaction, if any, 
would take place. When Greenwaldt told 
of the first meeting, the deal of $500, and 
gave a vivid and horrible picture of how 
Kelly had strangled the unfortunate wife, 
Kelly chuckled, and spat tobacco juice. 

\\7"HEN Greenwaldt finished, we all 
» * looked at Kelly, who returned our 
stares as brazenly as ever. And again 
this fiend denied his guilt. 

Once more Greenwaldt spoke up: 
"It's all up, Art. Salen has been shoot- 
ing square with me, and you'd better kick 
in, too." 

Kelly just sneered at him. I got up, 
and asked Kelly to go into the next room 
with me. He sat down and there was 
silence for a time. What was it that made 
him suddenly decide to talk? Perhaps 
the reason can best be found in his own 
words : 

"Well, it's true. I choked her. Green- 
waldt says you shot square with him, so 
I might as well come through. I choked 
her in the car like Greenwaldt said. She 
didn't even yell or struggle. I had my 
arm around her most of the ways, and I 
just slid my other hand up and jammed 
my thumb into her throat hard. It was 
easy. She just lifted her arm and let it 
drop slowly down again. It didn't take 
more than two minutes. The rest is just 
as Greenwaldt told it." 

I took him back in the other room and 
had him repeat it in the presence of the 
others while the stenographer took it down. 
Then I told him to go on with his story 
and tell us what happened after he left 
Greenwaldt. 

"After I dropped Al near Tad's, I 
drove back to Milwaukee over Eighteen. 
I left the Stutz on Michigan near Twenty- 
Seventh Street. I reached under the dash 
and unscrewed a nut in the ignition system, 
which shorted it and stopped the motor. 
Then I went into a drug store on the 
corner of Twenty-Seventh and Wells and 
telephoned the garage. I gave the guy the 
name of E. Hoffman, and said I was stay- 
ing at the Wisconsin Hotel and wanted 
the car delivered there. Then I went home 
and got a good night's sleep." 

Greenwaldt then rose and took both of 
Kelly's hands in his, and said : 

"I feel lots better since I got it off my 
chest, and I'll bet you do, too !" 

Kelly just shook his hand and grinned. 
They were next taken into another room 
to pose for the newspaper photographers. 
While there, someone asked Greenwaldt 
just how he had killed his wife. A look 
of hurt surprise came into the big fellow's 
face. 

"I didn't kill her," he whined. "I could 
never do that I I don't see why everyone 
accuses me. Kelly killed her. Let me 
alone. I feel just as though I haven't a 
friend in the world !" 

Someone asked Kelly to describe how 
he had killed her. 

"Nothin' doin'," he snarled. "I don't tell 
nothm', see? If Al hadn't 'a' squawked, 
I'd 'a' never told a thing. They could have 
pounded and beat me all night, but I'd 
never crack !" 

We took them back to McCrory's office 
again and got a complete question-and- 
answer confession for them to sign. I will 
insert here a part of that document, which 
contains Kelly's blood-chilling account of 



how he accomplished trie actual deed: 
Q. (Mr. Salen) — "Now, will you tell 

us what you know about the murder of 

Emma Greenwaldt?" 
A. — "Well, to say it in short, it's exactly 

the same as Mr. Greenwaldt has told it. 

It is." 

Q. — "Will you tell us just exactly how 
her death was caused?" 

A. — "By strangling." 

Q. — "How did you do it?" 

A. — "Just slipped my arms up around 
here. [He demonstrated on Sergeant 
Dieden, with left arm behind the Sergeant's 
back, right hand on his throat, thumb on 
windpipe.] I had my arm in back of both 
of them. As I have a long arm, it ex- 
tended further than her body, see? And 
then I put this [left] hand around her 
neck and put this [ right! one up like that. 
I jabbed my thumb into her windpipe hard. 
She didn't yell or even struggle. That'.' 
all there is to it." 

Captain McCrory: "You choked her 
then, did you?" 

Kelly: "Yes." 

Q. — "And you didn't use anything but 
your ?" 

A. — "Nothing but my hands." 

Q. — "Did you use both hands on her 
neck?" 

A. — "I may have after a while. I 
couldn't say." 

WHEN asked what he did with Mrs. 
Greenwaldt's rings, Kelly said he 
had carried them around a couple of days. 
Then one day while he was in a lavatory 
in the basement of the bus building, he 
tossed them up under the rafters in a 
corner. They were actually found there 
by a detective who was sent after them. 

I might mention that during the ques- 
tioning it was brought out that "Kelly" 
was just an alias. His real name was 
Arthur Richard Betzold, and his home was 
in St. Paul, Minnesota. 

Just after we locked them up for the 
night, Captain McCrory said to me: 

"I've come in contact with some of the 
most notorious murderers and fiends in 
the country, but have never met any that 
would equal Kelly. He sure is a tough 
bird ! In all my years in police work, I've 
never seen anyone so downright brutal, 
callous and cruel !" 

Monday morning we returned them to 
Waukesha for trial. Owing to the intense 
public interest in this case, huge crowds 
greeted us wherever we went. It seemed 
that everyone had a morbid desire to get a 
glimpse of the prisoners. Kelly appeared 
to enjoy the stir he was creating. 

"I guess we're giving them an eyeful 
to-day," he said as he surveyed the throngs 
milling around us. The fact that most of 
that throng just ached for a chance to 
tear him to pieces never bothered him. 

When I had them safely behind the 
bars at Waukesha. I made hurried prepara- 
tions for the trial. During this time the 
newspaper men were permitted to inter- 
view the prisoners. Greenwaldt was a 
thoroughly broken and remorseful man 
whose sin weighed heavily on him. He 
• wept continually, and refused to be inter- 
viewed. Kelly, or Betzold, however, 
joked and eluded the reporters. 

"Well, for once the newspapers were 
wrong, weren't they?" he said. "I 
hope that cadet out at St. John's who posi- 



True Detective Mysteries 



87 



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tively identified Greenwaldt on the rapid 
transit car that night, gets a pair of 
glasses. He sure as hell needs them !" 

"How come you took such a big chance 
for a mere five hundred dollars?" one of 
the news-gatherers inquired. 

"S-a-y," exclaimed Betzold, "what kind 
of a .?<;/> do you think I am? Al thought 
I was doing it for five hundred dollars, 
but I was looking for big money. As soon 
as he got that ten thousand, I'd 'a' black- 
mailed him out of the whole wad ! Why, 
I'd even got his Stutz and his home before 
I was through with him." 

Even these experienced newspaper men, 
who could write calmly of almost any 
emotion in the whole human category, 
shuddered at the viciousness and absolute 
lack of moral fiber of the man. 

What a vivid example of the old adage 
that crime doesn't pay ! Greenwaldt wanted 
his wife's insurance to pay up the mort- 
gages on his home and car and continue 
his good times. Even if neither h-d been 
apprehended. Greenwaldt would have paid 
clearly. With the threat of exposure, Kelly- 
would eventually have deprived Greenwaldt 
of everything he possessed. "Honor amony 
thieves!" 

Their trial, which took place immedi- 
ately, was a mere formality. The Judge 
heard their pleas of guilty, and they were 
sentenced to life at hard labor at the 
State Prison at Waupun. 

But while they were in the court-room, 
the desperate nature of Kelly was revealed 
in one last try. He noticed the gun 
strapped in the holster of Deputy George 
Bergen. His hand crept stealthily toward 
it, when Deputy Boettcher noticed the 
movement. Boettcher pulled his own gun 
and jabbed it into Kelly's ribs. As he did 
so, Chief of Police Carl Marquardt, of 
Oconomowoc, signaled to Bergen, who 
sprang out of reach. 

A finger-print check-up was made of 
Kelly but to the surprise of everyone he 
had no criminal record. The police and 
all who had anything to do with him are 
of one opinion, and that is that this wasn't 
Kelly's first, or second, or third, strangling. 
The neatness and dispatch with which he 
killed Mrs. Greenwaldt can come only by 
experience. Then, too s there was his boast 
that he was a "damn good choker." 

The reason he isn't "mugged" is because 
he has played shrewdly and never been 
caught before. But try and get cnything 
out of him. I am of the firm opinion that 
the secret of his former crimes will die 
with him. 

PICTURE, if you can, this little woman 
huddled between her gigantic husband 
and this unspeakable brute, Kelly. She must 
have had some foreboding that death was 
near. I cannot believe a person can be 
so near death (especially when the mur- 
derers are contemplating it at that mo- 
ment) and not have some premonition ( E 
it. In the dim light reflected from the 
dash, she looks up at her husband's face 
and then at his friend. She sees only a 
blurred outline of their features. The rest 
of the interior of the coupe and outside 
are in inky blackness, except for the two 
beams lighting up the road ahead. 

Like a trusting child, sb: banishes her 
foreboding, because she feels confident that 
this big, muscular husband of hers will 
protect her from any evil. They have been 



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so happy together. He has been so kind 
to her, and she has tried her best to be a 
good wife to him. 

BUT her thoughts are interrupted when 
a grip of steel seizes her neck from 
behind and forces her forward. Before 
she can utter a cry, a hard thumb is jabbed 
into a soft part of her throat, bruising and 
tearing its way through the tender flesh 
toward her lungs. Unconsciousness comes 
quickly, but just before the shroud drops, 
she raises her left hand to her face in a 
vain attempt to attract her husband's at- 
tention. It slowly falls back to her knee 
when death conies . . . Emma Greenwaldt 
is no more. 

George Dougherty, former head of the 
New York detective force, in a recent 
statement declared that there was no crime 
so revolting as murder for insurance. 
Then he cited incidents of friends and 
partners being killed or murdered for their 



insurance. How much more revolting are 
the details of the Greenwaldt murder! A 
happy couple; a kind, trusting wife; and 
then the baser instincts become aroused in 
the husband, and he cold-bloodedly plots 
her death. Small wonder that no other 
crime in the annals of the State of Wis- 
consin ever aroused so much horror and 
indignation ! 

It was just a week to the day after the 
crime was committed that Alvin Henry 
Greenwaldt, who plotted the death of the 
woman who had "been a good wife to me 
for fifteen years," and Arthur Richard 
Betzold, alias Kelly, who boasted he was a 
"damn good choker," went behind the grim, 
gray walls, there to remain until carried 
out in coffins. There is no hope of pa- 
role for good behavior for these fiends. 
Life imprisonment awaits them. 

Kelly's parting words were : 

"This is one time I wish Wisconsin had 
the chair!" 



The Real Truth About Chapman — 
America's "Super-Bandit" 



(Continued from page 44) 



appearance of one of the robbers him- 
self! — the one we now knmv to have been 
Dutch Anderson. 

All Stone had hoped to learn was a good 
description of a "hot-bond passer" — a tool 
of some daring fence. 

With the acumen of the successful real- 
tor, to whom an insight into human nature 
and personality is one of his greatest 
assets, Morton proceeded to give the In- 
spector a more finished picture of the man, 
Gensler, drawn with the strong, decisive 
strokes of a master : 

"He had a sort of pedantic manner of 
talking, and spoke with distinct traces of 
a German accent. One evening I ran into 
him in a hotel foyer, where he was wait- 
ing for a friend. On other occasions when 
I had met him he had been slightly curt 
and shy on speech, but he was quite lo- 
quacious that night. It struck me that he 
had been drinking. However, he spoke 
remarkably well, and it was quite evident 
that he had traveled quite widely." 

"Did you see the friend he was waiting 
for?" Stone asked quickly. 

"Yes, I did," Morton smiled. "That's 
how I managed to break away. The friend 
was a taller man, about five foot nine, 
slightly stoop-shouldered. He had rather 
bulging eyes and a loose-lipped mouth, but 
on the whole he made a very good appear- 
ance." (Again — Gerald Chapman ! — though 
Stone, of course, did not know this at the 
time.) "He was in dinner clothes, while 
Gensler was, as usual, dressed carelessly. 
With the taller man was a very attractive 
brunette who was stunningly gotten up in 
a smart evening gown and expensive fur 
wrap." 

"Were you introduced to this couple?" 

MORTON shook his head. "They didn't 
join Gensler while I was with him. 
They approached from the street door, 
and at first didn't see me because I was 
half-hidden by a pillar. When they dis- 
covered that their friend was talking to 
a stranger, they hung back a bit. Gensler 
saw them, and appeared to be sort of 



nervous. I bade him good-by, and he 
walked over to them." 

Inspector Stone thanked the realtor for 
his valuable information, and left the of- 
fice, experiencing the thrill of the poker 
player who draws two cards somewhat at 
random — and finds he has a royal flush ! 

The tall, bulging-eyed man in dinner 
clothes also fitted into Havernack's de- 
scription of the hold-up men! 

From the nearest telegraph office Stone 
wired his partner, Inspector Lord, a veiled 
communication suggesting the importance 
of Detroit data in his possession and re- 
questing an immediate conference. 

He then proceeded to the office of the 
brokers whose name had been supplied by 
the New York bank. There he requested 
the manager to trace, gather in and ex- 
amine all the bonds presented by Gensler. 

This was done, and it was discovered 
that all had been doctored. 

It required no transcendental reasoning 
powers to figure out that the trio who had 
held up Havernack's mail truck were 
novices in the game of disposing of "hot" 
bonds. They had accomplished the stick- 
up with a flaring that was devilish in its 
simplicity, but they were commencing to 
blunder dangerously as they floundered 
about in an attempt to cash in on their 
booty. 

Included in the Leonard Street haul, 
there had been approximately $27.0(10 in 
cash. Divided three ways, this would give 
each bandit $9,000: merely chicken-feed in 
the shiftless hands of criminals. 

It was obvious that the men were up 
against it for money, and that within a 
short time an avalanche of "hot" bonds 
might be expected. 

Morton, at the request of the Inspector, 
viewed the gallery of star thieves and 
bandits at Detroit Police Headquarters, 
but he failed to identify any of the photo- 
graphs as being that of the man who had 
passed him the stolen certificates. A can- 
vass of Detroit hotels was also fruitless 
of results; Gensler had checked out of the 
swanky hostelry where he had put up dur- 



True Detective Mysteries 



89 



ing his dealings with the real estate of- 
fice, and had left no forwarding address. 

A LL this data, Inspector Stone placed 
«■» before his partner, Lord, as the two 
sat over a late dinner shortly after the 
latter's arrival in Detroit. 

It was the mention of the bespectacled 
bandit's foreign accent that started a chain 
of associations trickling through Lord's 
memory. 

"I'll bet you a season ticket to the World 
Series that Edward P. Gensler is none 
other than Dutch Anderson!" he exclaimed 
suddenly, hand poised in the act of sugar- 
ing his demi-tasse. 

"Dutch Anderson?" Stone repeated in- 
quiringly. "Morton didn't recognize any 
of the pictures in the gallery. . . ." 

"That's because he was only shown the 
big birds! Dutch hadn't attained their al- 
titude by the time he was sent up the last 
time. German accent . . . school-teacher 
manner — by George, he's our man! The 
real estate man's description of his ap- 
pearance and personality tallies exactly 
with Anderson's I" 

"You've met Anderson?" Stone queried. 

"Yes ! He was in the custody of an of- 
ficer in Buffalo at the time for passing 
stolen money-orders. He had been ar- 
rested by an Inspector in the Cincinnati 
Division, and had a long record of petty 
crimes behind him. He had been in the 
penitentiary, and was sent to serve out a 
long term in Joliet. That was in nineteen* 
thirteen. The money-orders had been 
stolen from Station Forty-Four in Detroit. 
After Joliet, he was sent to Auburn on a 
three-to-five-year stretch. He was re- 
leased from there in nineteen-ninetccn, and 
was sent up for a short term of less than 
a year in the county pen for the Buffalo 
trick. He got out of there in ninetecn- 
twenty. ..." Inspector Lord, who is a 
bear for remembering data, rattled off 
Anderson's record as though he were read- 
ing from a printed page. 



"A 



REGULAR backslider," Stone re- 



something less than a year after that last 
release that the Leonard Street robbery 
was pulled ... if he isn't already back in 
the pen." 

L<»r<l nodded : "Yeahl And if we don't 
find him there, we won't have much trouble 
in learning if he's been doing honest 
work! Most likely the police have been 
keeping an eye on him. Anderson never 
committed any big job, but with his un- 
usual intelligence and education he's got 
the makings of a big-time crook in him : 
other qualifications being equal. N'obody — 
not even his own lawyer — ever found out 
where he originally came from. But he's 
got the 'born' crook's overdeveloped ego. 
He liked to pose as a man of mystery, 
yet he cuiildn't help boasting of his Kuro- 
pean college degrees, and hinting at a fine 
family in the background." 

When the two inspectors parted that 
night, Stone returned to Xew York, and 
Lord went back to take up again certain 
investigations he was making in Buffalo 
and to send out a general alarm through- 
out the service for a check-up on An- 
derson's whereabouts. 

If Dutch was found engaged in any 
legitimate enterprise, this would demolish 
his hunch that the former money-order 
passer and Gensler were one and the same 




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person; on the other hand, should the au- 
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probabilities were that the identity of at 
least one of the mail bandits was known. 

Who was the other? 

Of that, they had as yet no inkling. 

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returning to headquarters in New 
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for banks and brokerage houses, inform- 
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tributed. 

While he was thus engaged, a clerk en- 
tered and handed him a card. A gleam of 
interest shot into his eyes as they alighted 
on the name. He rose immediately and 
sought a secluded office at the further end 
of the third-floor corridor. 

There he found a man of medium 
height, nattily dressed in "ready-to-wears" 
of blue serge, somewhat shiny; a gray 
shirt, purple tie, and well-polished, black 
low shoes. He was seated with his back 
to the window. The ankle of one leg 
rested on the knee of the other, showing a 
short but dashing display of purple and 
gray silk socks. Though at first glance 
his face appeared typical of a somewhat 
rough type of go-getting . salesman, a 
closer scrutiny revealed a peculiar sharp- 
ness in the hard, gray eyes and a cynical 
twist to the wide, thin lips. 

Ry request of the authorities, the name 
"Paul Drayton" will be used in referring 
to this man throughout this story. Re- 
member the name. Paul Drayton played 
a prominent role in the tracking-down and 
capture of Gerald Chapman and Dutch 
Anderson. 

Drayton is one of those characters about 
whom you read so often in fiction but sel- 
dom come across in real life. He is an 
ex-convict who has reformed, and be- 
come a sort of modern Vidocq: an im- 
placable hunter of criminals in the under- 
world, as formerly he was an implacable 
foe of the world of law and order. 

Much speculation there has been among 
the aces of crookdom as to his identity, 
but so far he has managed to baffle them 
all. He is in no sense of the word a stool- 
pigeon, but a trained, shrewd and fearless 
investigator. Day after day and night 
after night, sometimes for forty-eight 
hours without a wink of sleep, he takes 
his life in his hands, mingling with men 
and women who hold life cheap and would 
snuff out his in an instant, should they 
scent the true purpose of his presence. 

It was the spirit of adventure that first 
set him wandering along the crooked paths 
of the underworld. His first ambitions, as 
a matter of fact, had been to become a 
driver entrusted with the delivery of Uncle 
Sam's mail or, failing that, the driver of 
a fire truck: it was the thrill that comes 
from flirting with death that unconsciously 
appealed to him. 

Before he was old enough to obtain em- 
ployment as either, he had several tilts 
with the police and served a term in a 
reformatory. 

Subsequently, he served two terms in 
penitentiaries before the knowledge was 
knocked into him that there were more 
kicks than kick in a reckless life in the 
underworld; also, that the romance and 
comradely loyalty which, according to 
books, are supposed to be integral parts of 
its code, are in reality unknown there. 

He came to the conclusion that he could 



achieve all the thrill he craved by work- 
ing on the side of Uncle Sam instead of 
against him ; hence his "reformation." 

r\RAYTON had valuable information to 
■L' impart to Inspector Stone that morn- 
ing, but you would not have thought so by 
his casual bearing : one of the criticisms 
most often made against this otherwise in- 
valuable ally is that he never seems to take 
anything seriously. 

There was a twinkle in his sparrow- 
bright eyes as he said, out of the corner 
of his mouth : 

"I got an earful last night that Wolfe's 
headin' a mob to buy 'hot' bonds. He's 
goin' to do the trick up brown ; opened 
a swell suite of offices down-town below 
the old dead-line." 

Only his use of underworld vernacular 
registered the undercurrent of excitement 
he was experiencing in making this com- 
munication. He continued: 

"Wolfe, you know, s:arted with a luck 
on the Bowery, and made up a gang to cop 
ice for him." (Translated: "Wolfe started 
with a paumshop on the Bowery, and or- 
ganized a gang to steal diamonds for 
him.") "He got broader and bigger like 
a snowball runnin' down-hill. All the 
dicks have been after him : the railroads, 
the insurance men and the shippers have 
tried to spring 'im. They've picked 'im 
up fifteen times, but he's beat every case." 

"Have you anything special in mind?" 
Stone asked cautiously. Louis Wolfe, he 
knew as a notorious fence. 

"Well, maybe. It's like this. Wolfe's 
men are spillin' the word that they know 
somebody who's in the market to buy red- 
hot bonds — bonds, that is, that's copped 
right here in New York City banks and 
buildin's . . . and mail-truck stick-ups!" 

No matter how "reformed" an ex-coti- 
vict may be, there is always difficulty in 
getting him to come straight to the point. 
Detectives find this peculiarly oblique way 
of thinking and talking their greatest hand- 
icap in attempting to impersonate an 
habitue of the underworld. 

"Did you hear anybody refer to the 
Leonard Street affair?" Inspector Stone 
asked him bluntly. 

"No-o-o," he replied drawlingly. "You 
see, they'd make me L recognize what I was 
after] in a minute if I appeared to be in- 
terested, 'cause they know I've never played 
the bears and bulls" — referring, with a 
grin, to bank robberies — "but I thought 
this spreadin' out of Wolfe was intcrestin'." 

"Drayton, did you meet Dutch Ander- 
son in Auburn? He was there at the time 
you were." 

The reformed lag's eyes narrowed for 
a moment ; then with a shrug he grinned 
again. "You mean the 'Professor'? Sure, 
I went to school to him. He was the 
schoolma'am at Auburn — and I was in his 
class. He's been straight since he got 
out." 

The term "gone straight" in the vernacu- 
lar of crookdom has two meanings : it 
refers both to the member of the under- 
world who has reformed and to the one 
who has escaped punishment for his 
crimes. With this double interpretation 
in mind, Stone asked Drayton if he had 
seen Dutch since his release. 

"A pal of mine saw him out in Toledo, 
where he was running a tobacco shop," 
he replied. "That was some time last 
year. Haven't heard nothing else since." 



True Detective Mysteries 



91 



Abruptly changing the trend of the con- 
versation, the Inspector started discussing 
a case Drayton was then working on for 
the Post Office Department, and did not 
again refer to Anderson at that time. 

As he walked back to his office, a whim- 
sical smile wreathed the customarily grim 
lips of Stone. The tip-off on the notorious 
fence's latest and most daring activity was 
laden with speculative possibilities. It 
might prove to be a gift from the gods. 

The present job of the Post Office in- 
spectors was to trace all passers of "hot" 
bonds, on the chance that they would lead 
to the identity of the bandits who had 
stolen them. 

Handled properly, Wolfe's office might 
be used by the Post Office authorities as a 
trap to catch the Leonard Street mail rob- 
bers ! 

A long telegram, worded in code, was 
ticking its way over the wires to Lord 
within half an hour. 

The following morning the two partners 
conferred together in the New York of- 
fice, and plotted an intensive and very 
carefully worked-out campaign. 

The scheme which was hatched between 
the two Inspectors, and the way in which 
it was carried out, would make a long 
story in itself. Only the high spots of 
this exploit can be touched upon in this 
story. 

Suffice it to say that within a week, a 
new brokerage office was opened on lower 
Broadway in the same building as that in 
which Wolfe's dummy firm was operating. 

IT was a modest office — a couple of 
rooms sublet from a well-established fi- 
nancial firm which was perfectly well 
aware of the use to which it was to be 
put. 

Exactly who were members of the per- 
sonnel of this office force, is a secret of 
the service. Even when the coup was 
achieved with an eclat that startled the fi- 
nancial world, and the sort of spectacular 
display that makes prize copy for the re- 
porters, so magically did the entire staff 
vanish that not one name was obtained ! 

Soon things were humming in the decoy 
brokerage firm. 

In this office was one of the most bril- 
liant undercover men in the service. 

Keen-witted, an excellent exponent of 
what makes for "It" in the sheik line, this 
sleuth, who was going under the name of 
Billy Baxter, was impersonating a young 
fop who merely worked days in order to 
"live" nights. Frequently, he has played 
this role, and his acquaintanceship among 
the habitues of the white light districts in 
all large cities is amazingly extensive for 
one who seems to be on the sunny side of 
thirty. Billy Baxter, however, is much 
nearer forty. His appearance of youth- 
fulness is one of his greatest assets. 

There are no "pick-ups" in the inner 
circle of the underworld to which Wolfe 
undeniably belonged. But Billy knew how 
to pull strings to obtain the proper intro- 
ductions. 

One night, while entertaining Miss 
"Bobby" Daniels, a "hostess" in a certain 
night club in the heart of Broadway's night 
life district (or "Mazda Lane," as Walter 
Winchell, New York columnist, calls it), 
Billy appeared moody and morose — very 
much unlike his usual bubbling, irrepres- 
sible self. He had been patronizing the 
resort, which was (it has since been closed) 




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secretly owned by a notorious ex-convict, 
for over a month, and had played his game 
with a skill that had completely hood- 
winked the wise-eyed girl who was seated 
beside him. 

There was nothing in the appearance of 
Bobby Daniels to suggest her connection 
with crookdom. A sleek, wavy, blond bob 
crowned her small, regularly featured face, 
and her lips formed a rather babyish 
mouth; but a keen observer would have 
noted a hard expression in the long-lashed 
blue eyes. 

THOUGH she was not directly con- 
nected with Wolfe's mob, Baxter knew 
her to be acquainted with many men promi- 
nent in the most select coteries of the un- 
derworld. She would, he had calculated, 
make an excellent mouthpiece in deliver- 
ing a certain message along the main ar- 
teries which led to the fence's citadel — 
and thus bring the two dummy firms, 
Wolfe's and the secret service's, into con- 
tact ! 

Bobby believed Baxter to be the scape- 
grace son of a prominent Southern family 
who paid him an ample allowance to keep 
away from the home town. Numerous 
hints he had managed to convey convinced 
her that some phony check trouble had been 
back of the banishment. 

For a while, this particular evening, 
she tried through professional sympathy 
and gayety to dispel his apparent dejection. 
Finding these unsuccessful, she asked him 
bluntly, what the trouble was. 

"Perhaps I shouldn't tell you," he said, 
in low, slightly maudlin tones. (They had 
been drinking alcohol-charged synthetic 
champagne, and to this he figured Bobby 
would attribute his indiscreet confidences.) 
"You're a good scout, though, and I know 
I can trust you. We've been badly hit by 
the market — and — well, there's liable to be 
trouble." 

For a few moments he waited for this 
to sink in. The girl knew that he was in 
partnership with another man in a "brok- 
erage" business, and she had had enough 
experience in listening to tales of crooked 
deals to read behind his words that the 
"trouble" hinted at was something crimi- 
nal — such as the use of a client's money. 

"As the market is right now," he con- 
tinued in an aggrieved voice, "we could 
clean up if we had enough jack — and we 
could get it, too, if my partner hadn't sud- 



denly developed a mulish streak. Never 
knew him to be so squeamish before," he 
finished with a sneer. 

"Perhaps he sees that your scheme would 
bring you into worse trouble than you're 
in now," the girl suggested softly, and 
there was a note of skepticism in her voice 
that would have challenged any youth who 
was as infatuated with her as Baxter had 
feigned to be. 

He apparently rose to the bait: "Listen, 
girlie, and see if it isn't a peach of a 
scheme! My partner has access to a vault 
where there is nearly a million dollars' 
worth of gilt-edged bonds. They are part 
of a trust fund for a kid who is now 
about eight years old. According to the 
terms of his fathers will, these bonds are 
not to be touched until they mature ten 
years from now . . . 

"Don't you see how easily we could 
borrow on a few of them . . . and clean 
up, and then return them without anybody 
being any the wiser? Baby — it's one of 
those chances of a lifetime 1" 

AT the mention of so much accessible 
wealth, a streak of cupidity flashed 
across the girl's eyes. Instinctively, she 
conceived a vague outline of a plan where- 
by a friend of hers who had been mixed up 
in one of the Wall Street messenger rob- 
beries could gain part of this treasure 
trove. 

She smiled into his eyes, and lifted her 
glass. . . . 

It's a dangerous game the Post Office 
secret agents are playing, with their 
dummy brokerage firm — and Chapman 
and Anderson, loaded with "hot" bonds 
and hard-pressed for cash, are elusive as 
quicksilver, in the desperate game of 
"passing" and "receiving." Who will fi- 
nally trap them? — Baxter, clever post- 
office sleuth? — Paul Drayton, "reformed" 
ex-crook? — some "girl friend" of the 
hunted highwaymen? Further inside 
facts — the real facts that lay behind the 
newspaper head-lines at the time this sen- 
sational man-hunt was being conducted — ■ 
will be revealed in the next instalment; 
giving a vivid insight into the real, excit- 
ing detective work behind the humdrum 
newspaper reports! Don't miss it — De- 
cember True Detective Mysteries, 
on all news stands November 15th. It's 
a thritlar: 



To Our Readers 

Most of the contents of this magazine come from leading 
newspaper men, detectives, and police officials. But we 
wish to make it plain that all readers of True Detective 
Mysteries are invited to send in, for consideration, fact 
stories of crime which they deem are suitable for publication 
herein. In writing for this magazine, please stick to the 
facts. Decision on manuscripts submitted will be made as 
promptly as possible, and we will pay at our usual rates, for 
those accepted. Actual photographs are desirable. Ad- 
dress: True Detective Mysteries, 1926 Broadway, 

New York City. 



True Detective Mysteries 



93 



The "Red Rose" 
Murder 

(Continued from page 5 1 ) 

"He took me in his arms and asked 
what I was crying about," the girl told 
us, huskily. "He seemed so kind and nice 

that I— I told him " —she broke off 

to glare defiantly at Clark, who sat in 
contemptuous silence a few feet away — 
"what a miserable time I was having in 
that place, with all kinds of awful men! 

"The sailor said, -Come on then! If 
you want to go. I'll take you out of here!' 
I answered: 'No, no! Jack would find 
me and kill me!' He laughed and said: 
7 don't think he will. If you want to go 
with me, just say so.' I didn't answer. I 
didn't know what to say! I— I wanted 
to go, but I didn't want to get that poor 
boy into trouble! Then he took that 
red rose out of a glass on the dresser. 
'You're a sweet little kid,' he said, and 
kissed me, 'and I'm going to put this rose 
in your hair to remember me by!' 

"Just as he put the rose in my hair. 
I heard a noise in the bathroom, and Jack 
came in. 

"He said, 'What the hell's going on 
here?' The sailor turned and started to 
say something. Then Jack noticed the 
rose, and seemed to get terribly mad. 
'Are you going to get out of here, or 
ain't you?' The sailor-boy wasn't afraid. 
He spoke up and said, 'You're a dirty 
dog to treat a girl like this!' Then Jack 
grabbed him and pushed him against the 
foot of the bed, just before this man [in- 
dicating Arthur Densmorel came In by the 
bathroom door. 

"The sailor started to go back to the 
parlor where his friends were. Jack caught 
hold of his shoulder, shaking him and 
pushing him backward. Just as they 
reached the door I saw Jack's hand behind 
him, holding a knife— a butcher knife with 
a black handle. 'I'm going to kill you, 

you r he yelled at the sailor. I ran 

to snatch the knife away from him. When 
he felt my fingers touching it, he turned 
and gave me a shove that almost knocked 
me down " 

HERE Earl Clark for the second time 
broke the silence he had maintained 
since being brought into the station. 

"Good God, Mamie! You don't know 
what you're saying ! Tilings like that will 
hang a man !" 

"That's enough, Clark!" I interposed 
sharply, as I saw the girl waver. "You'll 
have your say later. Go on, Mamie I" 

"Well, then,"— the girl's voice shook as 
she resumed her story — "I — I screamed and 
ran out into the back-yard. Two of the 
sailors were already there. They must 
have run out when the quarreling started, 
[n a few minutes the boy who put the rose 
in my hair came out, with his friend, and 
this man that drives a taxi [again indicat- 
ing Densmorel. Then all the sailors drove 
away in one of the cars. 

"I was sitting on the steps crying, when 
Jack ran out. 

" 'Damn you ! Come in and get ready 
to get away from here!' he said. T cut 
that fellow, and the police will be com- 
ing!' " 

"Mamie, after all I've done for you " 




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came from the prisoner in desperate protest. 

"Go on, Miss Stephens I" Farrcll cut in. 
Thus supported, the girl glared at her erst- 
while lover and continued defiantly: 

"He made me go into the house. When 
1 asked him if he cut that sailor with the 
butcher knife, he hit me with his fist. I 
didn't know anything more till I came to 
in the car. 

"W hile we were driving, I said again to 
Jack : 'You know you stabbed that poor 
sailor with the butcher knife !' He grabbed 
me by the throat and started to choke me. 
f didn't dare say anything more I" 

Here Clark threw himself back in his 
chair with a grunt of exasperation and 
despair, seeming to realize that the girl's 
weak and passive nature was at last in full 
rebellion, and his influence over her for- 
ever broken. 

The rest of her story tallied with that 
of Art Densmore. 

Clark was asked if he wished to make 
any statement. 

"Just this: if that boy's dead, I didn't 
kill him ! Mamie doesn't know what she's 
saying!" 

Clark and his girl were then led away 
to jail quarters. 

ON April 21st, an inquest was held over 
the body of Cicero de Silva at a local 
undertaking parlor. 

Among papers found in the dead sailor's 
effects was a declaration of intention to be- 
come an American citizen. This disclosed 
that de Silva was a Brazilian, born in Rio 
de Janeiro ; he was twenty-eight years of 
age. There was also a marriage license 
issued in Honolulu two years before. A 
picture in de Silva's watch-case revealed 
his wife as an Hawaiian girl of striking 
beauty, with a pair of great dark eyes — 
maybe even then gazing out over the blue 
Pacific, as she vainly awaited the return of 
the sailor-husband she was never more 
to see ! 

The autopsy surgeon's findings were to 
the effect that the death of Cicero de Silva 
was due to a stab wound, two and one-half 
inches deep and three-fourths of an inch 
wide, piercing an artery of the small in- 
testine, causing internal hemorrhage. 

During the first stage of the grim pro- 
ceedings, Clark sat in an adjoining room, 
having declined to view the body of his 
alleged victim. He had a habit of closing 
his eyes, simulating obliviousness to every- 
thing going on about him, then opening 
them abruptly and darting quick, piercing 
looks at persons present, as if hoping to 
take somebody by surprise in some word or 
action against him. 

Later, he abruptly dropped his mask of 
indifference and said, with a sidelong 
glance at me : "Guess I will take a look 
at that boy I" — in a tone suggesting that he 
suspected us of putting something over on 
him. 

Led up to the casket, he looked down 
for a few seconds into the dead face of 
the young sailor, without a flicker of any 
emotion on his own swarthy countenance 
save a mild curiosity. Then he turned 
casually away. 

As a result of the coroner's verdict, we 
swore out a complaint charging Karl Jack 
Clark with murder. His preliminary hear- 
ing was held on Wednesday, April 22nd, 
in Judge Cook's court, in Long Beach, and 
he was held to answer as charged, to the 



Superior Court of Los Angeles County. 

As we were driving back to San Pedro, 
alter the hearing, Clark remarked to me in 
a cool tone : 

"I'm going to put off this trial as long 
as I can. By that time Mamie Stephens 
will be older and wiser, and she'll realize 
what she's doing. I tell you boys, /'// never 
hang for litis!" 

Shortly afterward he was taken to the 
Los Angeles County Jail, pending trial. 
The Stephens girl was held in the Juvenile 
Hall, as a material witness. 

During the interim before the trial, we 
learned the nature of the defense that 
Clark's counsel planned to offer. To crum- 
ble this, we carefully assembled a formid- 
able array of evidence, which we placed in 
the hands of the District Attorney, and 
made ready to call all witnesses who could 
offer vital testimony in support of the case 
of the People of the State of California v. 
Earl J. Clark. 

One of the most important bits of evi- 
dence was, of course, the death-knife. As 
stated before, by some means that he never 
revealed, Clark, after wrenching the blade 
from the handle, had succeeded in destroy- 
ing it, or concealing it so cunningly that 
all our searching failed to bring it to light. 

However, we interviewed the woman 
from whom Clark had rented the fur- 
nished house at 2320 251st Street, Harbor 
City. The inventory signed by him in- 
cluded, together with other silverware and 
cutlery, an item listed as a "French butcher 
knife." This knife was missing from the 
furnishings found in the house after 
Clark's hurried departure. 

The landlady, however, took us to the 
hardware store in San Pedro from which 
she had purchased the cutlery, and indi- 
cated to us what she declared was the 
exact counterpart of the missing "French 
butcher knife.'' The handle was a perfect 
duplicate of the one already in our posses- 
sion, found in the weeds where it had been 
thrown by the accused man. The blade 
was about four inches long, extremely 
sharp and pointed, giving the knife the ap- 
pearance of a homely dagger rather than a 



kitchen utensil. 



DURING the last week in June, the case 
of Earl Jack Clark was brought to 
trial in Department 12, of the Superior 
Court, Judge Reeves presiding. Deputy 
District Attorney B. J. Scheinman repre- 
sented the People. 

On the witness-stand, Clark denied hav- 
ing stabbed Cicero de Silva, and endeav- 
ored to convince the jury that de Silva and 
his party must have gone elsewhere after 
leaving his place, and received his mortal 
wound at other hands than his. It was 
more than hinted that he might have been 
stabbed in a brawl between the sailors 
themselves, after leaving Harbor City. 

This defense was practically annihilated 
by testimony bringing out the fact that not 
more than fifteen minutes had elapsed be- 
tween the time the sailors left Clark's 
house, and their appearance on the clock, 
to go aboard the City of Los Angeles. A 
police officer had driven over the route 
and stated under oath that the ride, at a 
fair rate of speed, consumed not more than 
fifteen minutes. The claim that the stab 
bing had occurred elsewhere than in Clark's 
house was further discounted by testimony 
regarding the blood stains on the floor. 



True Detective Mysteries 



95 



Dcnsmore and Card testified that the 
four sailors were sober and on friendly 
terms during the ride to Harbor City, and 
on the return trip. 

On the other hand, Utrecht, Kelby and 
Lane declared that Clark, by insulting and 
derogatory remarks, had tried to provoke 
a quarrel with the m over the drinks served 
and payment made for them, prior to the 
altercation with de Silva. Clark had ac- 
cused them, in profane and obscene terms, 

of being a "bunch of cheapskates" 

who'd been in his place two hours and 
"hadn't spent a dime," despite the fact that 
de Silva had paid Clark some ten or twelve 
dollars for whisky, at fifty cents a small 
glass. 

On the stand, Clark earnestly assured the 
Court that he was "not the kind of a man'' 
who would commit the sort of crime with 
which he was charged. His counsel pro- 
duced several "character witnesses" to at- 
test to the accused's peaceable disposition 
and exemplary habits of living. These 
witnesses all purported to be "business 
men" from San Pedro and vicinity. To 
the casual eye, they looked the part. 

However, to the trained gaze of the 
police officer, they carried the earmarks of 
the underworld. We suspected that these 
worthies were engaged in "business" that 
might not stand close investigation. We 
noted names and addresses, and a subse- 
quent check-up upon the activities of these 
"business men" resulted in landing several 
crooks in the San Pedro jail! 

The Defense also sought to show that 
Clark had tried to eject de Silva from the 
Stephens girl's room, in defense of the 
sanctity of his home ; but when Mamie 
took the stand and sobbed out the sordid 
story of her relations with the accused, and 
the life of shame she said he had influ- 
enced her to lead, it was all too evident 
that the defendant had little "honor" in- 
deed to defend ! 

As a climax to the trial, Mamie Stephens 
described the scene in the bedroom, when 
Clark flew into a murderous rage against 
the sailor who had taken pity upon her un- 
happy plight, and with a romantic little 
gesture, so typical of one of the Latin race, 
had thrust the "red rose of death" into 
her golden hair — and paid for that gesture 
with his life ! 

After several hours' deliberation, the 
jury brought in its verdict. 

// was "guilty of murder in the first 
degree," with no recommendation for . 
mercy. 

AS he heard the words that consigned 
him to the hangman, Clark's powerful 
shoulders slumped perceptibly. He gave 
no other sign of emotion. 

On July 6th, 1925, Judge Reeves formally 
pronounced sentence: 

". . . . that you. Earl }. Clark, as 
punishment for the crime of which you 
hare been convicted, shall suffer the 
penalty of Death; and that within ten 
days from this date, you be by the 
Sheriff of this County taken to the 
Prison of the State of California at 
San Quentin. and by him delivered 
into the custody of the Warden of said 
prison; and by the said Warden, on a 
date to be hereafter fixed by this Court, 
not less than sixty nor ' more than 
ninety days from this date, within the 
walls of the said State Prison at San 
Quentin. that you be hanged by the 
neck until you are dead 



All color seemed to drain suddenly from 
Clark's swarthy face, as sentence was read, 
and the muscles of his mouth twitched. 
However, it was only a few moments be- 
fore he drew himself erect, and walked 
from the court-room with firm steps, with 
jail attendants. 

BUT Earl Clark was destined to show 
that, even as there's many a slip 'twixt 
cup and lip, extraordinary and unexpected 
events may transpire in the life of a con- 
demned man between the pronouncement of 
the death sentence and its final execution ! 

An order for appeal of the judgment 
was granted. Seven months later, Clark 
was still in the Los Angeles County Jail, 
pending the outcome of his petition for a 
new trial. 

In February, V)26, the new Los Angeles 
County Hall of Justice was formally 
opened, and county jail headquarters were 
removed from a dingy and antiquated 
structure to the tenth to fourteenth floors 
of the stately new building. 

Early on the morning of March 10th. 
city and county authorities were thrown 
into official panic by the escape from the 
County Jail of six of the most desperate 
criminals then confined in that institution— 
a feat which at first consideration seemed 
utterly impossible. And 

Earl J. Clark it-aj among the escaped 
prisoners! 

When we who had handled the case of 
the "Red Rose slayer" learned that he was 
one of the six escapes, we could not but 
remember his grim boast : "I'll never hang 
for the murder of Cicero de Silva!" and 
wonder if, after all, he might not make it 
good ! 

On the date of the jailbreak, one ca- 
pacious tank on the eleventh floor of the 
Hall of Justice was occupied by Clark and 
eleven other felons, including Charles J. 
FitzGerald, charged with the murder of a 
motor-cycle officer ; Robert Wilson, con- 
victed of highway robbery ; James Thomp- 
son, convicted bank robber : Allen Rodway, 
held for the Federal authorities in San 
Francisco, for forgery; and Mathcw Dcck- 
ert, convicted murderer, who, like Cark, 
was awaiting the outcome of an appeal for 
a new hearing. 

At 7 :45 A. M. that day, in violation of 
jail regulations, Turnkey Earl Daniels bad 
entered the tank alone to serve the in- 
mates' breakfast. A short time afterward, 
he returned to remove the dishes. As he 
entered the door of the tank, he was set 
upon by James Thompson, who yelled: 

"Gang him, boys!" 

While Thompson pinned Daniels' arms 
behind him, others thrust an improvised 
gag into his mouth, and tied his wrists and 
ankles with strips of canvas torn from a 
mattress. The turnkey was then struck 
over the head with a heavy weight pulled 
from one of the windows, and dropped 
unconscious to the floor. 

The six men already named, after seiz- 
ing the keys from Daniels' person, un- 
locked the outer door of the tank, relocked 
it behind them, and dashed down the then 
deserted corridor. 

A few minutes later Turnkey Daniels 
recovered consciousness, succeeded in work- 
ing the gag out of his mouth, and with his 
teeth severed the bonds that confined his 
wrists. He rushed to the locked door and 
shouted loudly for help. 




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True Detective Mysteries 



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Turnkey Ray Ernst, employed on the 
tenth floor, heard Daniels' outcries, ran up- 
stairs and released his colleague from the 
tank. The two at once gave the alarm. 

IN the meanwhile, Clark, Deckert, 
Thompson, Rodway, Wilson and Fitz- 
Gerald had run down one flight of stairs 
to the tenth floor. There, at the end of a 
deserted corridor, they found a wooden 
sawhorse that had been left in the build- 
ing by carpenters. The horse was hur- 
riedly broken up, and the sturdy boards, 
wielded by the powerful hands of the 
doomed men, speedily battered the iron 
bars from the window at the end of the 
corridor. 

One by one the desperadoes climbed out, 
and crawled single file on hands and knees 
for some ten feet, along a ledge so nar- 
row that one injudicious move meant a 
plunge to certain death on the pavement 
ten stories below ! The leader reached the 
first window, where a wide casement gave 
some freedom of action. It took only a 
moment to smash in the window, admit- 
ting the fugitives to one of the main halls 
on the tenth floor. 

A few yards away was the indoor fire- 
escape — and down went the six jailbreakers. 
A minute or two later they were on the 
ground floor. Mingling unobtrusively with 
the crowd in the vast main entrance hall, 
they walked quietly out into the street ! 

Once outside the building, the group split. 
It was later said that Clark was last seen 
walking north on New High Street, a nar- 
row, dingy thoroughfare traversing one of 
the old Spanish sections of the city. 

Within a few hours, three of the fugi- 
tives were recaptured. Within a few 
weeks, two more were tracked down and 
clapped once more behind the bars. 

Only the "Red Rose slayer" remained at 
large — and continued so! 

Sheriff William I. Traeger, Under 
Sheriff Eugene Biscailuz, Captains Bright 
and Peoples of the sheriff's homicide and 
robbery squads, respectively, had mean- 
while launched the biggest man-hunt Los 
Angeles County had ever known, in which 
two hundred county officers and one hun- 
dred city detectives cooperated. 

Bulletins with pictures and descriptions 
of the escaped prisoner were distributed all 
over the country, and sent to Mexico and 
Canada. No trace of Clark was found. 

Mamie Stephens was turned over to her 
parents, and the family went back to their 
native town in a Southern state. Sailors 
and taxi drivers and others dropped back 
into their grooves. For them the wheel 
of life turned once more with its former 
regularity — save that, at San Pedro, vigor- 
ous measures were taken to improve con- 
ditions at the water-front and prevent a 
recurrence of the "Red Rose" tragedy. 

Weeks and months passed. Earl J. 
Clark, the "Red Rose slayer," continued 
to elude the police net. He appeared to 
have succeeded in completely effacing him- 
self. Other major crimes gripped the at- 
tention of police and public ; the crime, con- 
viction and daring escape of Clark passed 
temporarily into the background of things. 
Would he ever be recaptured? .... 

FROM a train passing through the little 
town of Minot, North Dakota, one 
bright morning in May, 1926, there stepped 
a stranger — a young man of swarthy com- 



plexion, powerful frame, and neat appear- 
ance. After a few minutes' pleasant par- 
ley with the station-master, he mentioned 
the fact that he was a painter, and might 
remain in Minot for a while, if work was 
to be had. He finished by asking if there 
were a boarding-house in the town. 

There was one such establishment, kept 
by Mrs. William Schofield, and there the 
newcomer, who gave his name as E. J. 
Miller, took up his abode. 

Mrs. Schofield was a motherly woman, 
brisk-mannered, kindly and ever cheerful, 
despite the manifold labors involved in 
bringing up a large family of small chil- 
dren and ministering to the comfort of her 
guests. She took an immediate liking to 
"Jack" Miller. And Jack, in quiet, unob- 
trusive ways, took pains to make himself a 
favorite with the entire family . . . includ- 
ing pretty, violet-eyed, golden-haired Helen, 
the oldest daughter. 

JACK MILLER promptly got a job in a 
local paint store. A few weeks later, 
with a small capital accumulated, he set 
himself up on a modest scale as a paint- 
ing contractor. His work was good and 
he was favored with many jobs, and his 
little venture prospered signally. He 
showed himself conscientious, accommodat- 
ing, and decidedly pleasant-mannered. De- 
spite a rather noticeable reticence regard- 
ing his life before coming to Minot, he 
was soon held in friendly regard by the 
citizens of the little town where he had 
decided to "settle down." 

At the same time, the friendship be- 
tween the winsome Helen and her mother's 
popular boarder ripened into love. ... It 
was, in fact, only a few months before they 
stood before the altar in a quaint little 
vine-covered church, and there vowed to 
love one another until . . . Death should 
them part ! 

The young couple set up housekeeping in 
a pretty cottage on the outskirts of the 
town. 

Now, while it may be true that "hell has 
no fury like a woman sc'orned," it often- 
times happens that a man, too, whose love 
is spurned, may be just as cruel and im- 
placable in his efforts to destroy a favored 
rival. 

A young man named William Mimmons, 
living in Minot, had paid ardent and assid- 
uous court to dainty Helen Schofield be- 
fore the appearance of the mysterious but 
ingratiating Jack Miller in the field. While 
her regard for young Mimmons had been 
nothing more than friendly, that youth had 
cherished hopes that time would ripen 
friendship into a warmer sentiment — hopes 
forever blasted when the violet-eyed Helen 
became Jack Miller's wife. 

As the Fates would have it, Mimmons, 
for a long time an insatiable reader of 
detective stories, had decided that man- 
hunting as a profession would afford 
thrills sadly lacking in the general run of 
things in placid and prosaic Minot. At the 
time Jack Miller arrived in Minot. Mim- 
mons was taking a correspondence course in 
"detecting." 

He later said that he had been sus- 
picious from the first of the reticent 
stranger who had suddenly dropped down 
into Minot. It was therefore with great 
satisfaction that he picked upon his de- 
tested rival as a good subject for "observa- 
tion" and "surveillance," according to the 



True Detective Mysteries 



97 



correspondence lessons he was studying so 
avidly. For months he "shadowed" Jack 
Miller, intermittently, in various weird dis- 
guises sanctioned by the correspondence 
school. 

Af last there came a day when his pa- 
tience was rewarded beyond his fondest 
hopes. He followed Jack Miller when he 
went to the neighboring town of Stanley, 
to bid on a contract to paint the county jail. 
Lurking in the shadows of the corridor, 
the amateur sleuth kept a lynxlike eye on 
his quarry, as he sat alone in the main 
office, awaiting the appearance of the 
sheri ff . 

Mimmons watched Miller apparently be- 
guiling the time by flipping the pages of 
a bound volume of police circulars . . . 
saw him start abruptly, and after a swift, 
furtive glance around the empty room, 
quickly jerk a page from the book, crumple 
it, and toss it into the fireplace ! 

Triumph surged high in the breast of the 
student-detective, who at once "deduced" 
that "Miller" was wanted somewhere lor 
something, and had torn the bulletin per- 
taining to his crime from the book 1 

Mimmons slipped away, but returned to 
the jail that afternoon, asked permission 
to see the volume of circulars, took its 
serial number and duly noted that page 112 
was missing ! 

Returning to Minot, he took Police Offi- 
cer Jack Hartigan, of the Minot police 
department, into his confidence, telling his 
reasons for "suspecting" the mysterious 
Mr. Miller of being a fugitive from jus- 
tice . . . from where? — and for what? 

To obtain this information, it was neces- 
sary to send to San Francisco for another 
copy of the mutilated book. When it ar- 
rived, William Mimmons turned with fe- 
verish eagerness to page 112. 

THAT page was dedicated to a bulletin 
describing one Earl Jack Clark, badly 
wanted in Los Angeles. California, for 
murder and escape! The accompanying 
picture, unflattering though it was, un- 
doubtedly was the likeness of "E. J. Mil- 
ler," Minot's popular adopted son ! 

Mimmons was elated with this astound- 
ing and gratifying result of his maiden 
effort at "detecting." fraught as it was 
with the promise of sending his hated rival 
to the gallows ! 

Officer Hartigan, on the other hand, 
was at first unable to believe that "Miller" 
could possibly be the fugitive "Red Rose 
slayer," despite his facial resemblance to 
the convicted homicide. It was incredible 
that a young man who had come quietly 
but openly into Minot, worked so hard to 
make a success of a little business, wooed 
and won a charming and highly respected 
young girl, and made a host of friends 
and well-wishers, could be one with a 
long and sinister record of crime, and 
under sentence of death for murder! 

For weeks, Hartigan kept "Miller" un- 
der surveillance, unable to make up his 
mind to arrest him. However, on January 
8th, 1927, he decided that it was his offi- 
cial duty to take him into custody, either 
to identify him positively as Earl J. Clark, 
or to clear him of all suspicion. 

And so "Jack Miller" was lodged in the 
Minot jail, and a telegram sent to Sheriff 
William I. Traeger, in Los Angeles, in- 
forming him that the Minot authorities had 
under arrest a suspect, believed to be one 



Earl Jack Clark, wanted in Los Angeles. 

"Miller" indignantly denied that he was 
"Clark," even after William Mimmons was 
called in to take his finger-prints, and pro- 
nounced them the same as those on the 
printed bulletin. His loyal little wife 
staunchly refused to believe him a fugitive 
from justice. Her mother and Clark's 
many friends in Minot were firmly con- 
vinced that an absurd mistake had been 
made. An attorney was retained, and 
strenuous effort made to effect Clark's re- 
lease on a writ of habeas corpus. 

At the same time, from California had 
come a telegraphic order to hold the sus- 
pect by all means, followed by a certified 
copy of the warrant setting forth the 
grave charges upon which Clark was 
wanted, and the information that Deputies 
Heller and Johnson, of the Los Angeles 
sheriff's office, were leaving for North Da- 
kota with extradition papers. 

These were duly honored by the Gover- 
nor of North Dakota, and on January 18th. 
"Miller" was confronted in his cell by the 
Los Angeles officers. He again stubbornly 
denied their charges, and declared his in- 
tention to fight extradition to the last ditch. 

HOWEVER, on the morning of Jan- 
uary 19th, to the astonishment of all 
concerned, "Miller" quietly admitted that 
he was Earl J. Clark, the "Red Rose mur- 
derer." None may ever know what were 
his thoughts during that long, lonely night 
that brought about this unexpected change 
in his attitude — unless some of them were 
revealed in the verses he scribbled with 
pencil on a scrap of paper, later found by 
the jailers. It bore the title: 

The Curse of Life 

I am-bul a youth in the springtime of 
life, 

And yet I have tasted the bitters of 
strife; 

I dwell in a dungeon of blackest 
despair, 

And nnzv drink the dregs of sorrow 
and care! 

Now hear this who may, 'whatever his 
fate: 

It is xvise to Jove — but folly to hate! 
And whether I'm right, or whether 

I'm wrong, 
My story is told — and sung is my song! 

To the foolish and wise, the weak and 

the brave 

To this world, I owe nothing: it oivcs 

me a grave! 

St. Peter, here I comet 

When Deputy Sheri fi's Heller and John- 
son appeared in Clark's cell on the night of 
January 19th, they found him deathly sick. 
It was at first thought he had eaten soap, 
to make himself so ill that the officers 
would not be able to leave with him. How- 
ever, the officers discreetly decided to take 
no chances. A physician was hurriedly 
summoned. 

The resort to a stomach pump disclosed 
that Clark had taken cyanide of potas- 
sium ! He admitted having carried the 
lethal drug, concealed on his person, for 
several months. The physician said that 
the poison had lost strength, due to ex- 
posure during this lapse of time. Other- 
wise the prisoner's suicide attempt would 
have succeeded. 

Clark's girl-wife, after the first shock of 



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horror following liis admission of his iden- 
tity, clung to him pitifully and reiterated 
her belief in his innocence. W ith hope 
horn of despair, she put faith in his assur- 
ances that an appeal to California's higher 
courts would result in a new trial. There 
might be an accpiittal ; or at least a prison 
sentence, and eventually freedom through 
parole. 

"I'm coming back to Minot, honey," he 
said huskily, over and over again, when his 
little Helen came to the Minot jail to bid 
him farewell. 

And as the fair-haired slip of a girl 
threw herself on her husband's breast, her 
blue eyes turgid pools of despair sunk in a 
lace haggard with grief, stern-visaged offi- 
cers turned their heads, unable to look un- 
moved on the woman's heart-breaking 
agony, and the prisoner's piteous effort to 
control his twitching lips, as he murmured 
lor the last time : 

"Believe me, honey . . . I'm coming back ! 
I'm coming back to Minot !" 

As Mrs. Scholield stepped forward and 
gently sought to detach the girl from her 
husband's embrace, she sank unconscious 
in her mother's arms. 

Clark quietly turned and extended his 
wrists for the handcuffs. 

IMMEDIATELY after his return to the 
Los Angeles County Jail, Clark, cham- 
pioned by two able attorneys who became 
greatly interested in his case, after hearing 
his unusual story, began a prolonged and 
bitter legal light for a new trial. There 
ensued the lengthy delays always attendant 
upon such procedure. Months passed. 

Buoyed up by hope in the successful out- 
come of his counsel's efforts, Clark wrote 
to his wife and many friends in North 
Dakota, boyishly optimistic over the pros- 
pect of an eventual return "home." His 
girl-wife's letters were pathetic expressions 
of tenderness and longing for the time 
when he would come back to her. And 
one epistle, written about two months after 
Clark's arrest in Minot, imparted the 
precious secret that she was to become a 
mother, probably in September. 

And then, the last appeal for a new trial 
denied, on July 28th, 1927, Earl J. Clark 
was resentenced to death. A few days 
later he was taken to San Quentin Peni- 
tentiary. 

Now another valiant fight was launched, 
not for another trial, but this time for life 
itself, in the form of appeals to the Gov- 
ernor of California to commute the death 
penalty to life imprisonment. 

Clark's story — that of a crook who had 
"made good" only when it was too late; 
who had won a place for himself as an 
honest man in a good community, and the 
love of a fair young girl who was soon to 
bear him a child, only after he had for- 
feited his right to earthly happiness by a 
violation of that law of God and man that 
reads : THOU SHALT NOT KILL ! . . . 
aroused widespread interest and sympathy. 
Civic organizations and women's clubs 
acted in Clark's behalf, and forwarded 
petitions to the State's highest executive, 
to stay the death sentence. 

After his return from Minot, Clark made 
a host of friends among officers and em- 
ployees of the County Jail. He was shown 
much consideration, for which he showed 
himself almost pathetically grateful. 
Among his warmest friends were Deputy 



Sheriffs Johnson and Heller, who, from 
the intimate study they had made of Clark, 
believed that he would continue to "make 
good" if given another chance. Clark cor- 
responded with these officers from the 
"condemned row" in San Quentin. where 
they, in turn, kept him posted regarding 
the progress of the fight to save him from 
the gallows. 

Many officers, including ourselves, 
were of the opinion that the circum- 
stances under which Cicero de Silva was 
killed had warranted a veidict of guilty 
of second degree murder, punishable by 
a prison term, rather than the veidict 
that carried the death penalty. 

This also was the opinion of Judge 
Reeves, who had pronounced sentence in 
accordance with the verdict returned by 
the jury, although he bad. in his final in- 
structions to the jurors, carefully ex- 
plained the differences between first degree 
murder, second degree murder and man- 
slaughter, and made it plain that they could 
render any one of the three in the case of 
the defendant, Clark. Judge Reeves ex- 
pressed his views as stated, to Superior 
Judges Carlos Burncll and Albert Lee 
Stephens, both of whom sent letters to 
Governor Young, asking a reprieve for 
the condemned man. 

HIS execution was finally set for Sep- 
tember 23rd, at 10 A. M. As the days 
flew by without executive action, and Earl 
J. Clark's hours were numbered, one of his 
attorneys went to Sacramento to inter- 
view the Governor in person. A telegram, 
signed by one hundred employees and offi- 
cers of the Los Angeles sheriff's office, 
was also dispatched to Sacramento, asking 
the gubernatorial clemency. 

It was the universal belief, almost to 
the last hour, that Governor Young would 
at least grant a stay of execution. 

The following is part of a letter written 
by Clark to Deputy Sheriff Johnson on 
September 19th : 

Dear Friend: 

I just received your letter of the 
15th; tvas sure glad to hear from you 
and to know that all is going -well . . . 

I had another letter from my wife's 
mother. She says Helen will be con- 
fined in a few days. She says the 
folks there all want me to come back — 
and if 1 do, I'll have you to thank 
for that . . . 

Well, if I get back, I'll see that no 
one ivill be sorry. Say hello to all the 
boys. Tell them I haven't forgotten 
them — and never will! If everything 
turns out all right, I'll have to spend 
the rest of my life paying my friends 
who've stood by me — and believe me, 
there are some debts that are hard to 
pay! Well, I guess all I can do is 
try. I guess about the best way is to 
get a farm in North Dakota and invite 
you all up there for your vacations. 
That country is a wonder for that sort 
of thing. 

Well, here's hoping this won't be my 
last letter! 

Sincerely. 

E. J. Clare. 
Box 43921, San Quentin. 

However, on September 22nd, the eve of 
the date set for his execution, Clark was 
apprized by Warden Holohan that Gov- 
ernor Young had refused to interfere. 



True Detective Mysteries 



99 



Whereupon Clark had a last telegram sent 
to Deputy Sheriff Johnson, at Los Angeles: 

UNDERSTAND GOVERNOR HAS TURNED 
ME DOWN — WIFE CONFINED NEXT 
WEEK — TRY TO l'UT OFF FEW DAYS — 
ANSWER. 

CI. ARK 

Johnson's answering wire reached the 
prison in the early morning hours of the 
23rd: 

LONG WIRE SIGNED BY MAJORITY 
JAIL EMPLOYEES INCLUDING OURSELVES 
SENT GOVERNOR — ATTORNEY MARTIN 
STILL WORKING FOR YOU — ATTORNEY 
WOODS IN SACRAMENTO WITH COVER-.. 
NOR — DON'T GIVE UP HOPE. 

JOHNSON 

But dawn broke and the sun blazed high 
on what was to be Earl Clark's last day 
on earth . . . and as the wires between the 
warden's office and the Executive Mansion 
at Sacramento remained silent, the con- 
demned man was informed that the march 
to the death-chamber would start at five 
minutes to 10. 

Warden Holohan then asked Clark if 
he had any last request to make. Clark 
asked, as a special favor, if he might have 
a photograph taken, in street attire, copies 
of which were to be sent to his wife in 
North Dakota, and to Deputy Sheriff 
Johnson in Los Angeles. This request 
was granted. This picture, shown on page 
51, taken about an hour before Clark's 
execution, shows the calmness with which 
a "square-shooting crook," all hope aban- 
doned, could look into eternity! i 

A FEW minutes before the death-march 
started, Clark wrote the following re- 
markable letter, the original of which is 
still in possession of Deputy Sheriff John- 
son: 

San Quentin, Sept. 23, 1927 
Sheriffs R. J. Johnson and Heller 
Dear Friends: 

The poor boob never had a chance, 
as of course you know by now; but, 
boys, I'm proud to have known each 
and every one of you. New York's fin- 
est has nothing on you boys for square- 
shooting. God knows I ought to 
know! I haven't time to say all I 
would like to . . . 

But, boys, I'm a square-shooter, 
too; also a square crook. You can't 
find anyone, officer or crook, who'll 
say any different. 

Now, boys, I'm leaving in a few 
minutes . . . and as you brought me 
away from Minot, the only place 
where I was ever happy, where I 
was well liked, and where I have 
someone who really loves me, I'm 
asking you boys, one and all, to chip 
in and send me back . . . 

I've always kept my word. Don't 
let me break it now. As you well 
know, I promised Helen that I'd 
come back. You know she's heart- 
broken over this. Ship me back. 
That is my last request, and that is 
all I have to look forward to. Show 
this letter to Mr. Traeger. I know 
that at heart he's just like one of 
the boys . . . 

Peace be with each and every one 
of you. I wish I could write to all 



of you, but I haven't time now. All 
I can do is just wish . . . 

Boys, here's another little thing: 
just think — was it that poor girl's 
fault I should come to her home town 
at ' just such a time, like a thief in 
the night, win her love, lose my 
head — and marry her? No, boys; it 
was not only California's fault for 
being so stingy and careless, but my 
fault and your fault . . . But, boys, 
she wants me back, and I've prom- 
ised! I'm sure you will all help me 
keep my word! 

I fought fair, but I was beaten 
foully. But I don't squawk; no, not 
a squawk. My friends know two 
wrongs don't make a right! 

Well, good-by, boys! Here I go! 
Sincerely, 

E. J. CLARK, 
Finis 

A postscript was added: 

Boys, may God help that poor girl! 
That was the worst of all my crimes! 
Please help me make it right! . . . 
So long! 

This letter, written even as the tread 
of the approaching executioners echoed 
down the stone corridor, bringing his 
shameful doom nearer and nearer, sec- 
ond by second, stripped the soul of Earl 
Jack Clark: square-shooting, swaggering 
crook; proud and boastful of being a 
man of his word; humbling his pride to 
beg the aid of friends that his last prom- 
ise might be kept ; grateful as a child lor 
every kindness accorded him! 

And above all, tragically conscious, 
in his last few minutes of life, of the 
cruel wrong imposed upon an innocent, 
trusting girl, by taking her happiness into 
his hands, even as he stood in the black- 
shadow of the gallows 1 

It was nearly 10 o'clock when the 
epistle was finished, carefully folded and 
handed to Warden Holohan. 

At 10:13 the hand that had penned 
those few pitiful words was forever still 
in death. 

The "Red Rose slayer" had marched 
with unfaltering steps from Death Row, 
where the condemned cells are located, 
to that stark room where the scaffold, 
grim and terrible engine of human jus- 
tice, is erected. With firm tread he 
mounted the famous "thirteen steps," and 
glanced down coolly at the official wit- 
nesses grouped below. Just before the 
black cap dropped over his face, he said, 
quietly but clearly : 

"Well, so long, boys!" 

UPON receipt of Clark's air-mailed let- 
ter, and a wire from Warden Holohan 
regarding disposition of the body, Depu- 
ties Johnson and Heller promptly raised 
the sum of $223 among friends of Clark 
at the County Jail. A telegram was dis- 
patched to Clark's widow, in Minot, to 
ascertain her wishes. The reply came 
from Mrs. Schoficld, to the effect that 
the expectant mother was in a critical 
condition, and unable to answer the tele- 
gram. 

In view of the circumstances, with the 
attendant heavy expenses under which 
the bereaved girl would soon he placed, 
it was decided, with the telegraphed ap- 



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proval of Mrs. Scbofield, to send the 
money to Clark's widow, rather than 
ship his body back to "the only place 
where he was ever happy." 

The check and letter of condolence 
were acknowledged by Mrs. Schofield 
under date of October 4th, 1927 : 

". . . I am answering your Idler 
for Helen. She received your Idler, 
which was deeply appreciated — way 
you never knoiv how much! It makes 
my daughter feel better to know that 
others believed in her husband, too. 
When she is well, she will zvrile to 
thank yon, one and all. 

Sincerely, 
His mother: 
Mrs. Wm. Schofield. 



I loved that lad as my 
the boys, one and all!" 



AND so the body of the "Red Rose 
slayer" rests on the grass-covered 
slopes of Hillside Cemetery, San Quentin's 
official burial-ground. 

It is to be hoped that merciful time 
has softened the sorrow of those who 
knew and loved him, far away in Minot, 
North Dakota. 

For however reprehensible his deeds in 
earlier years, Earl J. Clark lived to show, 
albeit too late, that he had within him the 
stuff that makes a man ; and thus be is 
yet remembered by me and others, whose 
official duty it was to bring him to justice 
for the "Red Rose" murder. 
Beace be with his spirit! 



What It Means to Be Police Commissioner 

of New York 

(Continued from page 54) 



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Louis, Boston and other cities. They 
aren't nearly all drug 'fiends,' as so many 
people seem to think. In fact, very few 
of them are drug addicts, but they have 
a very low intelligence and hold their lives 
cheaply. 

"A few days ago a young gangster was 
picked up on the sidewalk. He was mor- 
tally wounded. 

"When he regained consciousness, the 
detective who was keeping guard over him 
in the hospital said to him: 'Now, Tony, 
you can't live. Tell its, who did this?' His 
response was: 'You so-and-so of a bull, 
(jo to hell!' and with a snarl on his lips 
he rolled over and died!" 

THEN, since the crimes are not, as a 
rule, scientific, the Police Depart- 
ment of New York City would have no 
use for scientists like those on the staffs 
of many European police systems?" I 
asked. 

"It would be quite impractical to have 
a staff of scientists on the pay-roll of the 
Police Department here," the Commis- 
sioner replied. "I believe that the prac- 
tical detectives we have now are quite as 
capable for the work they have to do as 
any in the European systems. They are, 
in fact, better suited to the locating of 
criminals here than any laboratory spe- 
cialist would be." 

The picturesque undesirables, the Bo- 
lice Commissioner agreed, prefer Paris, 
London, Vienna, and the Riviera as ren- 
dezvous, to the prosaic United States. 

"While the methods of Scotland Yard 
are not so different from ours," Commis- 
sioner Whalen said with an ironic smile, 
"they do have one privilege that the Police 
Commisioner of New York might envy. 
That is, no official there is ever obliged to 
give out a statement for publication! The 
people of London are not able to force 
explanations from Scotland Yard. The 
chief does not permit himself to be inter- 
rogated. No attacks are ever answered." 

Had the Commissioner desired to be a 
little unkind, he might have remarked that 
probably a great deal of the glamor that 
clings about Scotland Yard comes from 
this silence; that the greatest Scotland 



Yard successes, as many believe, are to 
be found within the pages of popular fic- 
tion novels ; and that in the files of its 
unsolved cases are many that would have 
made material for the yapping of New 
York crime critics! 

Nor did he mention how, when Scotland 
Yard was confronted with a crime com- 
mitted by four Lithuanian gunmen not 
long ago, it had to call to its assistance 
a detachment of the Scots Guards to cap- 
ture them after an all-day siege! 

"Many of our gangsters," Commissioner 
Whalen continued, "are little more than 
children. The automobile has made crime 
and murder so easy that a moron can get 
away with them. 

"I believe that many boys first go in 
for crime from a spirit of adventure. It 
seems so simple to stick up an unarmed 
man, rob him and then make a quick get- 
away. And one young thug alone, or with 
a few companions, may get away with a 
score of hold-ups before he is caught. 
His loot is very small and his punishment 
is very severe." 

During the first four months of Grover 
Whalen's commissionership, ten gangs 
were cleaned up. This record has not been 
surpassed in the history of the Department. 

To list all those here, with the neces- 
sary details, would take up too much space, 
but to give an idea of how quickly the 
young guerrillas work — and the heavy 
price they pay for their short careers — I 
shall mention five of them : 

First, the Early gang, which consisted 
of five youngsters and a girl, Betty Tier- 
ney. The boys got from three to seven 
years, and the girl six months on parole. 
Seventeen hold-ups. 

Second, William La Vine and Arthur 
Hotaling, who pulled off twenty-one jobs. 
They were handed a sentence of from fif- 
teen to thirty years each for their short 
flyer into crime. 

Third, the so-called "Drug Store Ban- 
dits." who had held up twenty-eight drug 
stores and as punishment got from fifteen 
to thirty years each in the penitentiary. 

Fourth, the "Rope Gang," composed of 
hoodlums whose procedure was to tie up 
the salesmen in chain stores and then rob 



True Detective Mysteries 



101 



tlic cash-register. They received sentences 
of from five to ten years each. 

The fifth played Queens and Nassau 
Counties, cleaned up ten burglaries, and 
made a haul of $100,000 before one of 
the Commissioner's detectives captured 
them in Flushing, N. Y. Frank Grackow- 
ski, William Popseich and Michael Szy- 
manski composed the personnel of this 
band. They were all first offenders, and 
were sent to Klmira. 

ONE critic of Commissioner Whalen 
suggested that the city be sufficiently 
patrolled to check crime at its inception; 
that the prevention of crime, rather than 
the apprehension of the criminal, should 
be the slogan of the Force. 

But, dumb as the average gangster is, 
he is cunning enough to stage his hold-up 
at a moment when the patrol on the beat 
has passed the spot. The crime lakes only 
a few moments, and, in an automobile, 
be makes bis getaway before the victims 
have a chance to give the alarm. Increased 
street-patrolling, then, is not the answer. 

The only practical way to curb crime 
bands, men experienced in policing New 
York City agree, is to steer youth away 
from the paths that eventually lead to 
a life of crime. 

In the new Advisory Commission on 
Crime Prevention which Commissioner 
Whalen has recenUy created, he has a 
concrete plan to effect this. 

On this commission arc men and women 
who have had a great deal of experience 
in welfare work and arc interested heart 
and soul in helping youth. 

"The main thought that suggested this 
commission," Mr. Whalen said, "was that 
though more than fifty per cent, of ovir 
criminals are between the ages of sixteen 
and twenty, there was no agency, at the 
moment, paying much attention to that par- 
titular group. All seemed to be centering 
their attention on children under sixteen. 

"I carefully considered the work done 
by many welfare organizations. They 
were. I came to the conclusion, all work- 
ing in different directions and were not 
brought into close contact with each other. 
If we could obtain the cooperation of those 
private agencies. I was sure that wc could 
obtain definite results and that there would 
be less duplication of effort. 

"The commission was formed to serve 
as a liaison body to bring the various 
agencies dealing with youth into a more 
coordinated, concentrated attack upon the 
problem of crime. 

"It will study all previous investigations, 
and any beneficial suggestions that may ac- 
crue will be adopted." 

The Advisory Commission on Crime 
Prevention, Commissioner Whalen ex- 
plained, is divided up into several subcom- 
mittees, with August Heckscher, who 
created the Heckscher Foundation for 
Children. F.dward F. Hutton. banker. John 
J. Raskob, financier. William Hall, presi- 
dent of the Boys' Club Federation, and 
Philip I.e Routillier, merchant, as a sort 
of balance wheel. 

The committees appointed are as fol- 
lows : 

Executive committee: Mr. Hutton, 
William Lewis Butcher. Director of 
the New York Children's Aid Society; 
Edwin J. Cooley, Parole Officer. Gen- 
eral Sessions Court; and Police 



Commissioner Whalen, ex officio. 

Committee on recreation and neigh- 
borhoods: George E. Worthington, 
Counsel of the Committee of Fourteen, 
Chairman; Mrs. Sidney Borg, Presi- 
dent of the New York State Confer- 
ence on Social Work, and Vice-Presi- 
dent of the Jewish Welfare Society; 
William Edward Hall. August Heck- 
scher and Lady Armstrong, President 
of the Big Sisters' Society. 

Committee on police welfare units: 
William Edwin Hall, Chairman; W. 
Bruce Cobb, former City Magistrate ; 
Edwin J. Cooky, William Lewio 
Butcher, and John J. Raskob. 

Committee on relation of police to 
puhlic and private agencies: W. Bruce 
Cobb. Chairman; Thomas S. Rice, 
special writer and member of the Po- 
lice Committee of New York State, 
Crime Commission, and authority on 
crime facts: William Lewis Butcher, 
Edwin J. Cooley, Rev. Christian F. 
Reisner, clergyman ; and Jane M. 
Hoey, Assistant Director, Welfare 
Council of New York City. 

Committee on women's division: 
Mrs. Sidney Borg, Chairman ; Mrs. 
Willard Parker, Jr., Chairman Protes- 
tant Big Sisters; and Jane Hoey. 

"All these people wilt take a warm per- 
sonal interest in their work, and their in- 
fluence will be far more influential than 
that of any institution could possibly be," 
the Commissioner said, after I had noted 
the various committees who will have 
charge of the several branches in this great 
scheme for the prevention of crime in 
New York City. "They arc all highly 
qualified along their particular line of wel- 
fare work, and their criticisms and recom- 
mendations will be invaluable. 

"f DON'T believe that the youngsters 
1 who start out in crime are fundamen- 
tally vicious. It is their environment and 
the lack of wholesome recreation and the 
right influences that arc responsible for 
their heedlessly drifting into that one- 
way trail that always has jail at its end. 

"I am placing young men who arc so- 
cially minded and interested in boys, at 
the head of the police precincts. Ambi- 
tion and high ideals are far more im- 
portant for that position than years of 
experience. It needs men who are work- 
ing for a future and who will be able to 
educate youngsters to look on the police 
man as their friend instead of as their 
natural enemy. 

"The station-house should be looked on 
as a friendly institution by the parents of 
wayward boys and girls — a place where 
they can take their problems and find ad- 
vice and help. 

"A very strict surveillance is being kept 
over every rendezvous where criminals 
hang out. If we can steer boys from the 
pool-rooms and boys and girls from the 
cheap dance halls and cheap cabarets, we 
will be doing a great deal to eliminate po- 
tential gangsters. 

"Young folks must have recreation. 
There is nothing wrong in dancing. 
There is nothing wrong in playing pool. 
Where the danger comes in is that they 
are apt to seek this recreation in the near- 
est and cheapest resort, where they meet 
undesirable characters, listen to the dis- 
cussion of crime, and are soon sucked 



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Master/ 




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down into the depths of the underworld." 

Youth has a downright antipathy to 
the preachings and teachings of wel- 
fare workers, and to combat this, Commis- 
sioner Whalcn has directed police officers 
to familiarize themselves with the Way- 
ward Minor Act and to make use of it 
in such cases as may require court action. 

Among other duties the committees of 
the Crime Prevention Commission have 
taken upon themselves are the following: 

1. To determine how the welfare and 
women's units in the Police Department 
can improve their activities, and particu- 
larly how they can be made more helpful 
agencies for boys and girls in various 
neighborhoods. 

2. To formulate plans for the elimina- 
tion of places and influences that foster 
ihe development of criminals. 

3. To bring about a more appreciative 
and better informed public opinion regard- 
ing the crime problem, and to encourage 
the police force not only to detect and ap- 
prehend the offender, but to report condi- 
tions that tend to demoralize youth. 

4. To suggest methods of reaching the 
prc-dclinqucnt youth of the city. 

5. To confer with the school authori- 
ties and vocational counselors to ascertain 
how the police can cooperate with them to 
induce pupils to utilize the advantages of 
public, high, continuation, and trade schools. 

6. To develop a program to serve as a 
guide for the officers of the women's di- 
vision for the supervision of dance halls, 
movies, beach resorts, and other places fre- 
quented by youth. 

7. To cooperate with private and public 
employment agencies in the effort to in- 
terest employers in the placement and ad- 
justment of minors. 

8. To study pernicious environmental 
influences present in the lives of our de- 
linquent youth and determine upon plans 
and policies for their correction. 

9. To study ways and means looking 
toward a greater use of schools and play- 
grounds. 

"We have had a very splendid offer 
from Will Hays," the Commissioner said 
after this comprehensive plan was dis- 
cussed, "to use the motion-picture industry 
to help in every possible way. Mrs. Berg, 
Lady Armstrong and Miss Hoey are high- 
ly trained in the matter of vocational 
guidance, and their advice will be very 
valuable. 

"One-track jobs that lead nowhere have 
a demoralizing influence on boys. What 
they require in their employment is work 
that offers them a future and that keeps 
them interested. While there are a great 
many contributing factors responsible for 
crime among our young people between 
the ages of sixteen and twenty, lack of in- 
teresting work, idleness and unsupervised 
spare time are the outstanding causes. 

"'INHERE will be no overnight improve- 
l ment, but eventually this plan is 
bound to have a very significant effect on 
the material out of which gangsters have 
been made. The public may become im- 
patient for quick results — it always does — 
but the Advisory Commission on Crime 
Prevention is going to carry on in a prac- 
tical fashion, and will not be disturbed by 
criticism, " Mr. Whalen said in conclu- 
sion. 

If crookdom chortled when Commis- 
sioner Whalcn took office, it laughed not 



quite so sincerely when the ' 
second outstanding innovation 
nounced in July. 

This was the creation of a secret police 
to cover gangland. 

More first-hand information about the 
underworld, its characters and activities, 
he felt was necessary. This lack of first- 
hand underworld information had been 
strikingly disclosed by the murder cases of 
Frank Marlow, racketeer; Edwin J. Jerge, 
gangster; Frankie Uale and others. The 
idea of the secret police force followed. 

The plan calls for a secret undercover 
service of fifty detectives, whose names 
will be unknown to each other and the 
rest of the Force. Their connection with 
the Department will be kept a secret even 
from their immediate families. They will 
never report in person to Headquarters, 
and will be known there only by numbers. 

Their work will be to mingle in under- 
world circles, with the object of listening- 
in on and preventing plots and killings. 
Some will specialize on cabarets and night 
clubs; others on gangster work, gambling- 
houses, and gunmen's hangouts. 

A "secret secret service" to war against 
gangland I Mr. Whalen's second decisive 
step showed him to be a man of construc- 
tive ideas and independent thinking, un- 
shackled by tradition, and with the fighting 
spirit necessary to carry his crime preven- 
tion war through I 

COMMISSIONER WHALEN has an 
extraordinary gift for organization and 
reorganization, and it is his great capability 
along these lines that has been responsible 
for Iiis success as Commissioner. 

Born in New York City, he attended the 
public schools there. As a reward for 
proficiency in his studies, his parents sent 
him to high school, the New York Law 
School, the School of Commerce and the 
Clason Military Academy. 

When he was twenty years of age his 
father died, leaving on his young shoulders 
the responsibility of supporting his wid- 
owed mother, his brother and his sister. 

In 1916 he organized the Business Men's 
League of the City of New York, the 
sole purpose of which was civic better- 
ment. This marked his entrance into the 
political arena. 

On January 1st, 1918, he was appointed 
Secretary to the Mayor, and became the 
right-hand man of Mayor Hylan in the 
reorganization of the city administration 
and the coordination of the work of the 
departments, boards and bureaus under the 
jurisdiction of the Mayor. This activity 
in the public service continued for six and 
a half years. In that period Mr. Whalen 
held the offices of Secretary to the Mayor, 
Commissioner of Plant and Structures, 
Chairman of the Board of Purchase, and 
Member of the New York State Bridge 
and Tunnel Commission. 

Mr. Whalen's executive ability was rec- 
ognized by Rodman Wanamaker, who ap- 
pointed him general manager of his great 
merchandising organization, with branches 
in Philadelphia, New York and London, at 
a salary of $100,000 a year. This he sac- 
rificed when in December, 1928, he ac- 
cepted the post of Police Commissioner of 
the City of New York, at a remuneration 
of one-tenth that amount— an act charac- 
teristic of his high ideals of public service. 

He has been honored by Great Britain 
as a member of the Royal Victorian 



True Detective Mysteries 



103 



Order; by Venezuela with the Order of 
Simon Bolivar ; by France with the Gold 
Palms and by being made a Chevalier of 
the Legion d'Honneur ; by Germany with 
the Red Cross ; by the late King Ferdinand 
I of Roumania, by being named a Com- 
mander of the Order of the Crown ; and 
with a decoration from Italy. 

HIS mother. Esther (de Nee) Whalcn, 
was of French-Canadian descent, and 
it was from this line that he inherited the 
graces of good manners and tactful cour- 
tesy which are so charming a part of his 
personality, and which have made him so 
many friends. 

Michael H. Whalcn. his father, was for 
twenty years Commander of the Peter 



Cooper Post, G. A. R., and undoubtedly it 
is from him that the Police Commissioner 
inherits his fighting qualities which stood 
him in such good stead when he was Com- 
missioner of Plant and Structures and 
which he has shown in even more marked 
degree in his present appointment. 

Best of all, his Irish parent bestowed 
upon him the gift of a sense of humor, 
and so it is that, while he has had many 
a good laugh at the expense of the back- 
scat drivers who take themselves so seri- 
ously, he yet is tolerant enough to over- 
look the absurd charges and impractical 
ideas that are flung at him, and to con- 
tinue serenely on toward his goal of mak- 
ing New York a safer and better place 
to live in. 



The Riddle of the Secret Closet 



(Continued frotn 

the flames, the names of the books were 
legible. They were copies of John, the 
Apostle, the New Testament, and The 
Philosophy of Eternal Brotherhood. 

On the charred fly-leaf of the Apostle 
book, the microscope picked out the name 
of "G. \V. Barbc," and the names of sev- 
eral Texas towns, indicating that the owner 
of the books probably had traveled through 
that part of the country. 

Doctor Heinrich deducted that possibly 
the soap, coffee, needles and thread might 
have belonged to an itinerant man. who 
traveled about the country, making his own 
coffee over a camp-fire and mending his 
own clothes. 

Police inquiries were sent at once to the 
Texas towns mentioned on the religious 
literature, and a startling discovery w r as 
made. The Texas police replied that "G. 
W. Barbe" was Gilbert Warren Barbc, a 
preacher and World War veteran who 
traveled much, and lectured in small towns 
which took his fancy as being in need of 
religious uplift. 

Questions led to the discovery that the 
Reverend Mr. Barbe and Schwartz had 
been friends during the four years that the 
chemist was engaged in his secret silk 
manufacturing experiments. 

It was not known how the two men had 
happened to meet. But the description of 
both men disclosed that they were almost 
identical in physique and height, though 
not in facial and cranial characteristics. 
Barbe had a sloping forehead, while 
Schwartz's forehead was nearly vertical. 
The color of their eyes and shape of their 
ear lobes also varied; the difference in 
the lobes, as it happened, having given the 
first link in the chain of identification. 

DOCTOR HEINRICH now was posi- 
tive that he could actually reconstruct 
the events which he believed had taken 
place in Schwartz's laboratory preceding 
the terrific explosion. He told police de- 
tectives and newspaper reporters a story so 
fanciful as to be almost beyond belief. 
Seated before him, his audience listened 
breathlessly as he expounded his theory. 
He began : 

"The murder — and I am positive that it 
zvas a murder — was one of the most hei- 
nous crimes in my experience! After mur- 
dering Barbe, the wandering missionary, 
Schwartz 'worked' over his victim in the 



page 60 

laboratory, in the hours he was alone. 

"By that, I mean that Schwartz delib- 
erately disfigured the body of his vic- 
tim—the hands, eyes and teeth— in an at- 
tempt to forestall possible identification of 
the corpse. 

"All this must have been done coolly 
and deliberately. It was not the work of a 
man actuated by motives of revenge. 
Schwartz did his work carefully after he 
murdered his victim, which stamps him as 
a man wholly without compassion. 

"Let us consider the facts obtained imme- 
diately after the explosion in the labora- 
tory. The night watchman, Gonzales, saw- 
Schwartz alive eleven minutes before the 
explosion, in which the chemist was 
thought to have lost his life. My investi- 
gation precluded the possibility that the 
body was that of the chemist." 

Heinrich then explained that there were 
large pools of blood in the laboratory, and 
contended that the body could not have bled 
so profusely in the short time before it 
was discovered after the explosion. The 
corpse had lain in pools of blood for a 
considerable length of time, the crimi- 
nologist told detectives. 

Schwartz, in Heinrich's opinion, had slain 
Barbe and then had concealed the body in 
the secret closet. It was this closet which 
the night watchman's dog had sniffed sus- 
piciously, thus earning the kick by 
Schwartz for its curiosity. 

"Along the line of investigating the fire 
and explosion, I was concerned with neg- 
ative evidence," Doctor Heinrich continued. 
"Obviously, certain things had happened in 
the plant. I was particularly concerned, 
however, with what had not happened ; that 
is, what might have been expected to hap- 
pen under similar circumstances. It must 
be remembered that, with only a prelim- 
inary and cursory examination, we were 
dealing with a supposed chemical explosion 
in which Schwartz had lost his life. 

"Considering this negative evidence, I 
found that the laboratory was very incom- 
plete in equipment. There was no illum- 
ination, no gas, no water and no heat. The 
only light in the laboratory was from a 
gasoline lamp placed in an adjoining room 
so that it would shine through the open 
door. 

"Schwartz was a chemist, and supposedly 
well acquainted with the danger of com- 
bustible fluids. Showing at least ordinary 




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caution in placing the gas lamp outside his 
laboratory, the chemist, if it was he that 
was killed, must have forgotten his train- 
ing for an instant and struck a light of 
sonic sort. 

"Further examination, however, proved 
that this was not the case. There was evi- 
dence of three distinct fires within the 
room. Six torches had been placed, one of 
which had failed to ignite. 

"Schwartz, I believe, made a big mistake 
when he poured benzol about his laboratory, 
distributing it over the body of the man be 
had slain and about the room between the 
benches. He did not wait long enough be- 
fore setting the fire. 

"Benzol fumes are heavy. Schwartz did 
not wait until they had sufficient time to 
rise above the level of the laboratory 
benches. If he had, it might have been a 
different story, for there would have been 
an explosion which would have wrecked 
the building and destroyed the body, to- 
gether with all of the evidence, thereby 
completing the 'perfect crime.' " 

DOCTOR HEINRICH was interrupted 
by the question : "Have you recon- 
structed what you think took place in the 
laboratory after the incendiary fires were 
set?" 

"Yes. As it was, the flames spread from 
under the locked door where the fires had 
been set and into the first alleyway of the 
benches. Two benches acted as a gun- 
barrel in directing the explosive force of 
the fumes. Schwartz had apparently calcu- 
lated on the explosion blowing shut the one 
open door. Instead, with the gun-barrel ef- 
fect of the benches, the blast blew the door 
entirely through the opening. 

"Then, when the night watchman entered 
the room, he broke one of the outside win- 
dows with the fire extinguisher as he at- 
tempted to subdue the flames. This action 
undoubtedly saved his life and also the 
laboratory." 

As the meaning of his words dawned on 
the detectives and reporters, Doctor Hein- 
rich, in an even voice, continued his meth- 
odical reconstruction of the mystery. 

"How long the body of the man now 
identified as the Reverend Mr. Barbe had 
been in the laboratory, was the next ques- 
tion which confronted me. 

"In my opinion. Schwartz killed bis vic- 
tim on the day of the explosion — probably 
some time early on that same day. The 
contents of the victim's stomach, submitted 
to me immediately after the preliminary 
autopsy, revealed eight or nine small un- 
digested particles of meat, apparently bacon 
or at least pork of some kind. This led 
to the conclusion that the victim was killed 
some time that morning, the meat being 
such as might commonly be associated with 
breakfast. 

"I believe the murder was committed in 
the laboratory. This theory is strengthened 
by the point that an office chair was placed 
particularly in the path of the combustion. 
There were probably blood stains on the 
chair in which the victim very likely was 
slain. As the murderer wished to dispose 
of this evidence, he was successful, as the 
chair was badly charred. 

"Now, from all the facts considered, I 
have come to the almost positive conclusion 
that Schwartz killed Barbe." 

So convincing was Doctor Heinrich's 
analysis that on August 4th, 1925— only 



five days after the explosion — a charge of 
murder was preferred against Schwartz ! 

The murder warrant, sworn to by Clyde- 
Laird, criminal inspector for the county, 
named the missing chemist as "Leon 
Henry Schwartzhoff. alias Charles Henry 
Schwartz, alias John Doe Stein," the last 
name being that under which Schwartz 
had been known to Miss Adam, the beau- 
tiful young Swiss girl who had sued him 
for $75,000 for breach of promise. 

Meanwhile, a solemn military funeral 
was accorded to Barbe. a fitting and tear- 
ful tribute being paid by the American 
Legion Post at Martinez, California, to the 
former soldier who had answered the call 
to arms in the time of his country's need. 
An American flag draped the coffin, and a 
soldier chaplain softly intoned a funeral 
prayer. 

Stiff-backed, the Legion men stood at 
attention while the prayer was said, and 
then, as the plaintive bugle cry of taps 
floated on the air, they reverently lowered 
their former comrade into his grave. 

In the crowd at the funeral mingled 
plain-clothes men of the detective force, for 
it is a well-known fact that a criminal 
nearly always returns to the scene of his 
crime, and frequently is present at the 
funeral of his victim. 

After the burial, the detectives redoubled 
their efforts to solve the mystery. "Find 
Schwartz I" continued to be the cry of the 
Berkeley police, who called to their aid the 
services of police departments all over the 
world. 

All highways leading from California 
were blocked by vigilant motor-cycle police- 
men in the hope that Schwartz had not 
yet escaped across the international boun- 
dary-line cither into Mexico or Canada. 
Scotland Yard and other European police 
were requested to join in the search. 

The missing chemist was described as 
"always being around women. Look for 
a nervous man who jingles coins in his 
pockets, smokes numerous short cigars, and 
walks with an excessive military erectness." 
The description was broadcast throughout 
the country. 

ONE day squads of detectives were sent 
rushing frantically to an Oakland ship- 
yard by excited reports that a man answer- 
ing Schwartz's description had been seen 
loi cring on the docks. 

The man, furtive in his movements, as 
if he feared he was being watched, ap- 
peared at the Moore Shipbuilding Yards in 
Oakland. He inquired of the workers in 
a hushed voice whether he could obtain 
passage on the steamship Nordic. When 
informed that the boat carried only freight 
and no passengers, the man hurried away 
before the detectives were able to reach 
the scene. A thorough search among the 
storage sheds and in the shipyards failed 
to reveal a trace of the stranger. 

Had Schwartz himself attempted to com- 
mit the "perfect crime"? This question 
was asked when an Oakland insurance 
company announced that it would not pay 
the huge insurance which the chemist had 
taken out on his life, because it believed 
him to be alive. 

The insurance company held a policy 
amounting to $105,000 on Schwartz's life, 
payable at $125,000 in case of accidental 
death, such as a laboratory explosion; 
and other policies brought the missing 



man's life insurance to approximately 
$200,000! 

Police advanced the theory that possibly 
Schwartz had wanted to disappear — having 
been seized by the strange wanderlust 
which had led him through foreign coun- 
tries during the war — and had insured him- 
self heavily to care for his wife and 
children. 

And if Schwartz did want to vanish, 
what would be more natural to a man of 
his distorted imagination, detectives asked 
themselves, than to "plant" a body in his 
laboratory, to make it appear that he him- 
self had been killed while conducting his 
dangerous experiments? 

Then it was revealed that Schwartz him- 
self had been a student of "perfect crimes." 
That the chemist had taken keen pleasure 
in discussing "perfect crimes" was disclosed 
by Captain Clarence D. Lee of the Berk- 
eley Police Department. Lee said Schwartz 
had made an intensive study of murders 
for two years, and had made a practise of 
dropping into the Berkeley police head- 
quarters to discuss notorious crimes in the 
most minute detail. 

"Schwartz seemed particularly interested 
in the failure of criminals to hide the 
traces of their crimes," said Captain Lee. 
"He also professed special interest in 
American police methods for catching 
criminals and tracing missing persons. He 
tried to give the impression that he had 
worked as a detective in Europe, but when 
I asked him about his experiences, he was 
always somewhat vague in his answers." 

DETECTIVES now began, too, to un- 
cover the truth about the clever mas- 
querade under which the missing man had 
passed during his life. His career, they 
found, had been composed largely of bluff 
and boasts. 

The plant and laboratory he had erected 
for the manufacture of artificial silk from 
his secret formula, was disclosed as a 
hastily thrown together building, con- 
structed at small cost. 

Schwartz had proudly displayed a skein 
of "artificial silk" to interest investors and 
civic officials in his enterprise. But now an 
analysis of the "silk" disclosed that it had 
been purchased by Schwartz at a store for 
the sum of $8.50! 

Chemists went over Schwartz's "secret 
formula" for the manufacture of silk. It 
was this formula for which Schwartz had 
declared an international ring of thieves 
and blackmailers had threatened his life. 
The formula, it was found, had been copied 
verbatim from a text-book on chemistry! 

Schwartz had often boasted to friends 
and acquaintances of his heroism while he 
was a soldier of fortune in various lands. 
But cold facts revealed that instead of 



True Detective Mysteries 

serving as an ace in the French flying 
corps, he in reality was a private in the 
Red Cross. Instead of being a spy for 
France in the ranks of the German troops, 
records showed he had been a barber for 
the soldiers! He had been transferred from 
the Red Cross unit in which he served to 
an artillery battery upon his claim that he 
was a "mechanical engineer." But when 
his angered superior officers discovered that 
he was an impostor, they promptly made 
him a barber and forced him to trim the 
beards of the poilns. 

After he was discharged from the bar- 
ber's job, Schwartz induced his listeners 
to believe that he was a famous chemist : 
but again the records revealed that he had 
served only as an "apprentice chemist" in 
Morocco. 

With each new revelation, the cry "Find 
Schwartz !" grew more and more insistent. 
It spurred on the sleuths. 

Mysterious Jiide-outs in San Francisco's 
Chinatown were searched. The famous 
"Chinatown Squad," led by Sergeant Jack 
Manion, who has spent years among the 
slant-eyed Orientals, took up the trail. But 
no clue was unearthed to the tantalizing 
question: "Where is the missing chemist?" 



105 



A 



T this time another character, a man 
of quiet demeanor, entered the strange 



Harold Warren was known to his Oak- 
land and Berkeley friends as a quiet and 
studious man, although somewhat mys- 
terious in his comings and goings. No one 
had ever been able to learn what Warren 
did for a livelihood, but the man always 
seemed well supplied with money. 

Warren was a sociable sort of fellow, 
and was gladly welcomed to parties among 
the small circle of friends whose warm 
firesides he apparently enjoyed with the 
greatest of pleasure. 

Among those friends was C. W. Hay- 
ward, manager of an apartment house at 
446 Forty-First Street, in Oakland. One 
day Warren came to Hayward's apartment 
building and greeted his friend. 

"I want to rent an apartment, and I will 
be here to-night," Warren said. Hayward 
was glad to obtain this quiet man as a 
tenant, and readily rented an apartment to 
him. 

Later, with sinister significance, Hay- 
ward was to recall vividly that the day 
Warren rented the apartment happened to 
be the same day that the Schwartz murder 
mystery "broke" in Walnut Creek ! 

Warren did not occupy his apartment the 
day his tenancy began, but at 4 o'clock the 
next morning he stumbled into the house 
and awakened the astonished Hayward. 

Between quick intakes of breath and 
wiping the perspiration from his forehead, 



Tortured For Love 



— the amazing true story of a modern Trilby. 

This Man Asked to Be Hanged — here is a murderer whose conscience would 
not let him rest. 

The Slip that Saved an Empire — this spy in the World War made a fatal 
blunder when he forgot how powerful habit is. 

These and fifteen other stories and features, each stranger and more thrilling 
than any fiction, appear in November True Strange Stories. On sale at 
all news stands October 15th, twenty-five cents per copy. A Macfadden publication. 




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Warren explained his late arrival home. 

"I have had trouble with the police in 
Sailta Clara," lie said. "I was in an auto- 
mobile accident, and there was some booze 
in my car. There were three other men 
with me. They succeeded in escaping. 
When. I tried to run. 1 fell. I got away 
from the police, but I am afraid that I 
sprained my ankle. I will have to lay low 
from the police for a while, I am afraid." 

Hayward sympathized with his friend, 
and agreed that perhaps Warren had bet- 
ter rest and give his injured ankle an 
opportunity to heal. 

Having enjoyed Warren's conversation 
and company, Hayward that same night 
invited his tenant to a birthday party in 
honor of his fourteen-year-old daughter, 
Marjorie. There was to be a big birthday 
cake, with candles and games, dancing and 
cards. 

Although his injured ankle must have 
pained him severely, Warren graciously 
consented to be present at the birthday 
party, and he also accepted the honor of 
leading the grand march with the young 
guest of honor. 

When the time came for the grand 
march, Warren and the young girl led the 
march through its intricate windings and 
graceful movements, and Warren seemed 
to enjoy himself immensely. 

As the dancing began, however, he was 
forced to excuse himself, because, he said, 
his sprained ankle bothered him. 

So Warren and Mr. and Mrs. Hayward 
sat down to enjoy a quiet game of cards 
with other friends. As they played, the 
conversation turned to the mysterious ex- 
plosion in the laboratory of Schwartz, the 
chemist. 

The newspapers had carried flaming 
head-lines on the explosion and the finding 
of the body, only a few hours before. 
Hence the event was discussed with much 
interest. 

"That poor chemist paid with his life 
for his dangerous experiments," someone 
remarked. Warren listened with great 
attention to the discussion, and then broke 
in on the conversation. 

"Yes," he said. "Experiments with 
chemistry are always dangerous. A chem- 
ist never knows when a new test is going 
to result disastrously. Why, in my own 
experiences 1 once had a narrow escape in 
a laboratory!" 

THKRE were exclamations of astonish- 
ment, and as the card players paused 
in their game to listen, Warren continued. 

"I was once employed in a German lab- 
oratory, and we were working on a secret 
formula for the manufacture of artificial 
silk, when some dangerous chemicals were 
mixed together. There was a bad ex- 
plosion, and several of us workmen were 
injured. And so 1 repeat that a chemist's 
life is dangerous and he never knows what 
to expect. It really is not surprising that 
that man Schwartz was killed while 
experimenting!" 

The card game was resumed, and the 
other guests at the party continued to dance 
and enjoy themselves. As the hour grew 
late, Warren finally excused himself, say- 
ing that his injured ankle was paining him 
severely and that he was going to return 
to his apartment for the night. 

Warren then left the gathering. Hay- 
ward watched him depart with some re- 



gret, as Warren had been the "life of the 
party." 

Some time later, Hayward encountered 
Warren in the hallway and could not help 
noticing that the man seemed nervous. At 
first Hayward attributed this to the fact 
that Warren was keeping undercover from 
the officers who had found liquor in his 
automobile after it was wrecked. Hayward 
reasoned that Warren naturally did not 
wish to be apprehended because he would 
be subject to a fine and possibly imprison- 
ment. 

But the next day and the following day 
Hayward noticed with a feeling of some 
uneasiness that Warren was keeping en- 
tirely to the house, and not venturing in 
the streets at all ; and that he would very 
cautiously look from his apartment door to 
sec that the halls were empty before he 
left his apartment. The man had taken 
on a strange air of mystery. He even re- 
fused to go to a near-by cafe for his 
meals, and asked Hayward whether he 
could dine with him and Mrs. Hayward. 
Hayward assented, and his curiosity grew 
as to the real reason why Warren was in 
hiding. 

By this time, a few days after the ex- 
plosion, it had become known that a fiend- 
ish murder had been committed in the 
laboratory of Schwartz. The murder 
formed a topic of keen discussion when 
Warren and the I lay wards dined together. 

One day a suspicion passed through Hay- 
tvard's mind like a flash of liahtning! He 
did not discuss his misgiving with anyone 
in the house, but instead consulted a 
friend, N. B. Edmunds of Berkeley. Ed- 
munds also was a friend of Warren. 

Hayward and Edmunds, in low tones, 
discussed the suspicion which had risen in 
the apartment house manager's mind. 

"Can it be possible that Warren and 
Schwartz are one and the same man?" 
Hayward asked Edmunds. 

Edmunds laughed. "Such a thing hardly 
seems possible," he declared. "Warren 
doubtless is hiding from the police be- 
cause he is afraid they will arrest him 
for having liquor in his possession. But 
there certainly is a resemblance to this 
man Schwartz ! I suggest that we consult 
the police about the matter." 

IT was nearly 3 o'clock in the morning, 
after long and worried whisperings, 
when Hayward and Edmunds determined 
upon their action. As law-abiding citizens, 
they naturally did not care to protect War- 
ren if he was guilty of violating a law. 
though they did not at this time believe 
him capable of murder. 

Less than two weeks had elapsed since 
the murder in the laboratory and the dis- 
appearance of Schwartz after the explo- 
sion, when Edmunds got in communication 
with Captain Clarence Lee of the Berkeley 
Police Department, who had taken an ac- 
tive part in the investigation. 

Captain Lee was astonished at the sus- 
picion disclosed to him by Hayward and 
Edmunds. But he is always quick to act 
on "tips," no matter how seemingly trivial, 
and his police training urged him to follow 
this one up as rapidly as possible. 

He summoned five husky policemen. 
The officers jumped into a fast police au- 
tomobile and. with the siren screaming at 
the street intersections, the automobile 
raced to the Hayward apartment house, 



True Detectku Mysteries 



107 



where "Harold Warren" had been living. 

Captain Lee held a hurried consultation 
with Hayward. and then the officer quickly 
ordered three policemen to block all means 
of escape from the apartment building. 

"Now. Mr. Hayward. you go to War- 
ren's front door and knock, and tell him 
to come out because we want to talk to 
him," Captain Lee said. 

"Harold." Hayward called, addressing 
his friend Warren by his first name. "Har- 
old, let me in! This is Hayward!" 

There was an ominous silence. As the 
policemen strained their ears in the dark- 
ened hall, they heard Warren pacing nerv- 
ously back and forth in his locked apart- 
ment. 

W arren apparently had sensed that some- 
thing was wrong to cause such an early 
morning visit to his apartment. But he 
had not yet learned that policemen were 
crouching in the hallway. 

Captain Lee then went to the rear of 
Warren's apartment and rapped loudly, 
crying : "Open this door, in the name of 
the law!" 

Silence. 

The Captain whispered instructions to 
his men. They decided to batter down the 
door. 

The burly policemen, at a signal from 
Captain Lee. lunged their powerful shoul- 
ders against Warren's apartment door. It 
gave slightly. As they prepared for the 
second push they paused suddenly. 

A muffled revolver shot was heard. 

The policemen stepped back a pace, their 
revolvers in their hands ready for action, 
litit the shot from within had not been 
fired through the door. Redoubling their 
efforts, the policemen broke through and, 



with drawn revolvers, rushed into Warren's 
apartment But they had no need for 
weapons — no resistance met them. 

OX a table was a suit-case, with a roll 
of money, $600 in all. on the top. The 
suit-case was packed as if for immediate 
flight. A bundle of photographs, tied with 
string, also was in sight. 

The eyes of the policemen and a few 
newspaper reporters who were already on 
hand quickly swept the room, and discov- 
ered Warren lying on the bed. 

A light was switched on. And the 
dreaded discovery was made. 

"Warren" was indeed Schwartz ! 
On the table in the room was found a 
suicide note, which Schwartz apparently 
had penned hastily as the policemen bat- 
tered at his door. The note, addressed to 
his wife, pleaded for her forgiveness for 
the monstrous crime he had committed. 

This, then, was the end of Schwartz's 
elaborate preparations for and execution of 
his "perfect crime." 

Detectives and Doctor Heinrich had 
agreed that, bad Schwartz waited only two 
short minutes before igniting the torches, 
his fiendish crime would have been perfect. 
In those two bare minutes, only 120 seconds 
of time, the heavy benzol fumes would have 
risen sufficiently high to have been deto- 
nated fully by the torches. And the explo- 
sion would have destroyed the laboratory 
and the body of Schwartz's victim com- 
pletely. 

Instead, Schwartz had been trailed to 
earth and, as the policemen and reporters 
looked on in stunned astonishment, the 
chemist, whose "perfect crime" had failed, 
breathed his last in death. 



The Clue of the Gray Hat 

(Continued from page 55) 



quarters," I said to my lanky prisoner. 

"What you pinchin' me for?" 

"Suspicion of murder !" I replied, watch- 
ing closely to see how he would react to 
that startling charge. 

"I ain't never killed nobody, honest, I 
ain't !" Charcoal Johnny whined. 

"We'll talk about that later. Get your 
things on, and let's go! - ' I commanded. 

Charcoal Johnny finally scraped up his 
tousled wardrobe from several parts of the 
disordered apartment, completing bis at- 
tire with an ill-fitting cheap cap that looked 
like one acquired by proxy. "Reckon I'm 
ready to go with you," he remarked 
glumly. 

"Why don't you wear your bat. instead 
of that cap you've got on?" I inquired. 

"Ain't got no hat," he answered surlily. 

"Here's the one you lost. Try it on !" 

When I said that. I pulled out the mur- 
der-hat with a flourish and substituted it 
for the cap on his head. It was a neat 
fit for him. And, to my amazement. Char- 
coal Johnny seemed not to resent the ■ 
change! His stoic demeanor caused me to 
wonder how. if he was guilty of the crime 
1 was arresting him for. he could fail to 
show comprehension of the damning evi- 
dence being thus disclosed. I couldn't dis- 
cern that the infamous hat being foisted 
upon him had provoked the slightest fear. 

Without wanting to call the patrol - 
wagon, I marched Charcoal Johnny 



to Headquarters and had him locked up to 
await further investigation. I felt pretty 
certain that I had captured one of the men 
connected with the "Hot Tamale King's" 
murder. How else could all the circum- 
stances pointing to his guilt be explained ? 
An informant had said he was one of the 
killers! He had been found in a barri- 
caded room! He had refused me admit- 
tance! Although he had made no physical 
resistance, he had been armed. with a loaded 
revolver ! He apparently filled the de- 
scription of one of the gunmen I The mur- 
der-hat was a perfect fit for his head ! 
All these things combined gave a "char- 
coal" color to the suspicions that were sur- 
rounding the man with that singular alias. 

I WILL not attempt to tell in detail the 
developments that immediately followed. 
For, despite the strong circumstantial evi- 
dence against him, it soon became a cer- 
tainty that Charcoal Johnny was in no 
way involved in the murder of John E. 
Levy. Reluctantly, I became assured on 
that point. 

Xot once in a lifetime would so many 
singular circumstances spring up to cast 
a cloud of dark suspicion over the head of 
an innocent person. But within forty-eight 
hours after his arrest. Charcoal Johnny 
stood beneath the azure-blue sky. in so far 
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True Detective Mysteries 




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Investigation proved that Mrs. Hatch- 
erley, the lunch-room proprietress, had 
based her assertion of his guilt upon the 
fact that she happened to know that Char- 
coal Johnny had been a habitue of the 
"Wild Duck Recreation Parlor" (I am us- 
ing here a fictitious name for this pool- 
room) where the newspapers had said the 
Levy murder was thought to have been 
planned. 

The prisoner admitted having spent 
many idle hours at the Wild Duck, but 
proved conclusively that he hadn't visited 
the pool hall for more than a week prior 
to the time the murder plot was thought to 
have been hatched there. 

His reason for going into hiding several 
days before I uncovered him, he confessed, 
was because he had incurred the enmity 
of certain dangerous characters with whom 
he at one time associated in the liquor 
traffic. That statement was checked, and 
tallied. 

It was the same cringing fear for his 
life that caused him to barricade his door 
and refuse admittance to all callers. And 
it was to bolster his truant courage that 
he kept the loaded revolver as a defensive 
weapon in his lair. 

Last, but by no means least, was the 
matter of the gray hat. That quirk of 
fate was so odd as to be almost unbe- 
lievable. The fellow had owned a hat 
resembling the one left at the murder 
scene— but his hat had been stolen! 

Incredible as the story sounded, I 
checked that angle to a finish. The re- 
sult was conclusive proof that Charcoal 
Johnny had not lost his hat to a thief un- 
til after the one that resembled his had 
been retrieved from the shrubbery in the 
rear of Levy's garage. It was just 
another strange coincidence that the killer's 
hat happened to be Charcoal Johnny's size. 

Notwithstanding the relentless ordeal to 
which Charcoal Johnny was subjected in 
the process of elimination, I treated him in 
a considerate and humane manner while he 
was in custody ; and his appreciation of this 
was later shown in a way that was as 
gratifying as it was unexpected. I will 
say now that Charcoal Johnny .indirectly 
placed a trump card in my hand when the 
game was all but lost. But that comes 
later ! 

I HAVE purposely refrained from men- 
tioning Charcoal Johnny's true name, 
which he confided to me after our first 
unconventional meeting, for he is better 
known under the alias that shields his 
birthright. By some, no doubt, colloquially 
speaking, Charcoal Johnny would be called 
a rat. But it is my idea that if anything 
of the rodent species found a counterpart 
in his nature, it was the humble mouse! 

His mode of existence placed him in the 
same sphere with the proverbial human 
rats of the underworld, but I found him 
not of the vicious type usually referred to 
by that term. His disposition was more 
typical of the mouse that is forced to in- 
habit the subterranean depths where the 
rats abound. And it was through that un- 
avoidable contact with the so-called rats 
that he later became a valuable ally to 
me. 

"All is not gold that glitters!" I re- 
peated the old adage that occurred to my 
mind as I thought of how the links had 
snapped apart in the quickly forged chain 
that had so utterly failed to bind Char- 



coal Johnny. "But I sure thought I had 
you dead to rights," I told him when lie 
was ready to walk out of the city jail — a 
free man. 

"I don't blame you for th' pinch. 'Twas 
sorta queer th' way things looked, an' 
I'm proud yuh treated me white when uh 
found out this rap wasn't comin' to me." 

"You probably haven't lost anything by 
your little visit up here, but I want you to 
take this in remembrance of the mistake 
I made in arresting you," I said, handing 
him a five-spot from my none too plenteous 
supply of cash. 

That brought a cheerful smile to Char- 
coal Johnny's forlorn face, and as he 
thanked me for the donation, he pushed 
his ill-fitting cap back to a rakish angle, 
and made for the exit that would let him 
out into the alley alongside the polite 
station. He paused when he reached the 
door, and beckoned me away from two 
police officers who happened to be stand- 
ing in the jail lobby. 

"I'm goin' to try to help yuh to pick 
up th' right trail," he whispered. 

Then the door closed behind him. 

I WENT back to the Homicide Bureau 
and got that fateful hat again — the 
gray hat that was to be my constant com- 
panion for many days of tiresome, pain- 
ful plodding. Por twenty-eight days I 
carried the grim trophy from place to 
place, house to house, and person to person. 
That didn't conclude the monotonous rou- 
tine, for, altogether, I lugged that hat 
about with me for forty-five days. But 
it was twenty-eight days of that kind of 
work, after Charcoal Johnny was re- 
leased, before anything resulted worthy of 
chronicle in this account. 

During that twenty-eight-day period, I 
spent an average of twelve hours out of 
each twenty-four in the northern and east- 
ern sections of the city. I concentrated 
upon that district first because it was the 
territory nearest the scene of the crime, 
and I thought it more likely that the mur- 
derers would be acquainted there. Besides. 
I thought that the hat might be recognized 
by someone who had seen the gunmen on 
the trips I thought they had doubtless made 
to the vicinity in planning their getaway 
in advance of the deed. 

On numerous occasions I was buoyed up 
by statements of persons who, upon being 
shown my aging clue, would exclaim in all 
sincerity : 

"I know that hat ! It belongs to. . . ." 

Then I would lunge out, thinking I >vas 
on the eve of the big catch, like a blood- 
hound striking a fresh scent, only to have 
it prove a vvill-o'-thc-wisp. More than 
once, the false leads I picked up sent me 
hurrying to Inspector Griffin with opti- 
mistic reports that would collapse wil'.i a 
bang when I ran them to earth. 

It was impossible for me to make any 
progress on the case, working secretly. 
Although I tried to work as quietly as 
possible, some of the disheartening fruits 
of my labor leaked out. People began to 
call me "The Wandering Jew." The hat 
was identified so many times without re- 
sult that it became a painful joke. My 
colleagues on the Force began to think I 
had fallen victim to a wild obsession in 
my attempt to solve the mystery. 

My nightly visits to the Wild Duck 
pool-room — the resort where it was known 
that the murdered man had collected the 



True Detective Mysteries 



109 



money on a big bet a few hours before he 
was slain — were as barren of results as 
the tedious routine of my daily efforts in 
the open. I hoped to pick up some chance 
remark by those who might be in the 
"know" at the Wild Duck. But every 
time I would get within earshot of any of 
the clannish crowd that hung out there, a 
hushed silence would greet my approach. 

While I was extravagantly wearing out 
sole-leather by day, and growing donkey- 
ears by night — not to mention the dizzy 
feeling I was getting by going around so 
much in circles — Captain Glisson and Ser- 
geant Lemmer, of tfae regular Homicide 
Detail, had by no means relaxed their ef- 
forts to get the mob I was after. But we 
were all simply groping in the dark, and 
for myself, I confess that I was getting 
wabbly in the blind search. 

And then Charcoal Johnny lifted the 
blindfold enough to set me right on an- 
other straight course. 

T T was a cold December morning when 
1 I sallied forth on the twenty-ninth suc- 
cessive day of my roving quest for the 
loser of the gray hat. I had just left 
Headquarters and walked northward about 
three blocks, when a low whistle reached 
my ears above the sound of the wind that 
whined through a narrow alley. 

I turned my head, and saw Charcoal 
Johnny's hand motion me to follow, as he 
stepped back into a concealing niche be- 
hind a tall church building. 

"I ain't found out much, but I been try- 
ing like th' devil to help yuh, like I said I 
was goin' to when yuh turned me loose," 
Charcoal Johnny began, following my 
friendly greeting to him. 

"But you have got some news for me, 
haven't you?" I could tell by the re- 
pressed excitement in his voice that he 
hadn't taken the chance of being spotted 
in conversation with a minion of the law 
by a mere desire to be sociable. 

"Listen," he whispered close to my ear, 
"I'm goin' to spill my info' quick, cause 
it ain't none too healthy for me to be seen 
'round here with yuh! 'Tain't much, but 
it's straight as far as it goes: Bill's th' 
guy what lost that hat yuh first tho't was 
mine!" 

"Who is 'Bill'?" I felt suddenly disap- 
pointed at the uncertainty implied in his 
tone. 

. "That's what 1 can't find out; all I 
know is they call him Bill." 

When 1 pressed Charcoal Johnny for the 
particulars of how he had picked up that 
meager bit of information, he mentioned 
the name of his informant, who at the 
time of our conversation was confined in 
the Shelby County Jail on a robbery 
charge. If I were to allow the true name 
of that man to be published, even at this 
late date, in view of the assistance he later 
rendered me, it would cost him his life. 
That is why I'm going- to call the man 
mentioned by Charcoal Johnny, "Missouri 
Mike." 

What Charcoal Johnny knew was little 
enough, but it was sufficient to convince 
me that Missouri Mike could, in all proba- 
bility, supply valuable information leading 
to the identity of the owner of the mur- 
der-hat — if he could be induced to talk, 
which was doubtful ! 

(Incidentally — Charcoal Johnny is dead 
now, in all probability; so no earthly peril 
can overtake him to demand vengeance for 



the aid he rendered me. A short time after 
that last meeting, an unconfirmed report 
reached me that his absence from the old 
haunts was due to supposedly accidental 
drowning when a liquor boat capsized in 
the turbulent Mississippi. In accepting that 
theory of his death, I have had no hesi- 
tancy in revealing Charcoal Johnny's 
faithful alliance with my cause.) 

When I rushed back to Headquarters 
that morning and told Captain Glisson that I 
was again on a hot scent — that I had found 
out, from what I believed to be a^truth- 
ful source, that Missouri Mike was the 
key-man in this mystery— he listened at- 
tentively. 

"That may be a good lead, Sol." 

"Is this Missouri Mike a tough baby?" 
I didn't know him at all then. 

"We had him in the show-up a few 
weeks ago. Maybe it was while you were 
on furlough. He's a hard rock, all right. 
Shuts up like a clam I" 

"Wonder how we're going to get him 
to talk. . . ." 

"OUPPOSK you try to cultivate him in 
O a friendly sort of way," Captain Glis- 
son suggested. "He may not know you, 
and there's a chance that you can talk to 
him without him knowing you are a dick." 

That was just what I wanted to do. 
But I knew that luck would have to be 
with me if I got in and out of the jail 
without some of the other inmates recog- 
nizing me. My long connection with the 
Police Department made it almost impos- 
sible for me to go among criminals with- 
out meeting acquaintances. 

Captain Glisson left the method of ap- 
proach entirely to my own discretion. So 
when I visited the corridors on the third 
floor of the jail, a few minutes later, and 
looked in upon the lanky, red-headed youth, 
whom the jail warden had pointed out by 
location of the cell without being seen by 
the prisoners in that row, I could see that 
Missouri Mike was a very surly-looking 
chap of twenty-five or thereabouts: 

Dejection, as well as defiance, were mir- 
rored, I thought, upon his countenance as 
he sat hunched upon the edge of his iron 
bunk. He was paying no apparent atten- 
tion to me as I sauntered toward his cell. 

"Hello there, old man ! What are you 
doing in here?" I hailed him in my best 
stage manner. 

"What th' hell do you care?" Missouri 
Mike shot back, turning his eyes in my 
direction, hardly opening his lips as he 
spoke, and keeping his profile rigidly poised. 

"I don't give a damn!" I spoke indiffer- 
ently. "Here, take a cigarette to ease your 
grouch," I kidded him. 

Missouri Mike poked his hand through 
the bars. It was a slender hand, soft and 
trim as a girl's, contrasting oddly with his 
unchanged expression of hardness. 

"Keep the pack ; I can get more easier 
than you can," I told him. 

"Thanks," he mumbled a little less 
gruffly. 

I turned away casually and walked on 
down the aisle. A few feet from Missouri 
Mike's cell, I stopped and chatted with an- 
other prisoner long enough, in a confiden- 
tial tone, to make it appear that my mission 
at the jail concerned the latter. I circled 
the tier of cells on my way out, to avoid 
passing Missouri Mike's cell again on that 
visit. 

The next day I went back again. The 




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scowling look on Missouri Mike's face 
brightened a little when he saw me, but he 
was still inclined to be cool and taciturn 
when I paused to engage him in light con- 
versation. I lit a good cigar, and gave him 
one like it, then walked on, unconcernedly. 
But not before I had observed favorable 
signs of the reaction I had hoped for in 
response to the little courtesies with which 
I was experimenting. 

My second visit to the jail was carried 
out on almost precisely the same plan as 
the first, with no definite accomplishment 
to report. 

On the third visit, the following day, 
Missouri Mike spoke to me and called my 
name. 

"Good morning, Mr. Solomon. You're 
coming around pretty regular !" 

("Missouri Mike has been listening in on 
the jail grape-vine," T thought to myself. 
"Some of the jailbirds have tipped him 
off.") 

"Yes, I've got a friend in here that I'm 
trying to do something for," I told him. 

"Maybe you'd be good enough to do 
something for me — none of these damned 
jailers won't do me a favor. . . ." 

"Want to risk me helping you?" I in- 
terrupted. "You know I'm a copper," I 
said with a grin. 

"That don't keep you from being a 
s(|uarc-shooter. Besides, what I want ain't 
no secret. I'm on the outs with my girl, 
and she won't come to see me. But if she 
knew how much I need her, she'd help to 
spring me out of this rotten stir, on bail. 

"Will you go out and tell her . . . tell 
her I ain't sore, no more . . . tell her to 
come up here?" His voice was almost 
pleadingly soft. 

MISSOURI MIKE gave me his "moll's" 
name and address, and in promising 
him that I would do what I could toward 
bringing about the much desired under- 
standing with his lady-love. I managed to 
conceal my elation at the break I thought 
I was getting. 

The next day I went back, as usual, not 
intending to make immediate capital of the 
incident of the day previous. I wanted to 
avoid all appearance of trying to rope my 
man, and to this end I approached Missouri 
Mike's corridor from the opposite direction. 
But he saw me while I was chatting with 
the prisoner who had been the object of all 
my calls, and yelled for me to come by 
and see him on my way out. 

"Say, you're a right guy, and I won't 
forget what you've done for me I" Missouri 
Mike informed me in a low voice, when I 
got around to him a little later. "The kid 
was up to see me a couple of hours after 
you left here yesterday, and the mouth- 
piece [lawyer] she's going to get will 
spring me out in a few days!" 

But the robbery charge held Missouri 
Mike fast to his cell, even after his girl 
hired a shrewd attorney to make the 
defense. 

I kept on making daily visits to the jail 
and gradually warming up to Missouri 
Mike, while spending the bulk of my time 
trying to find some free citizen who would 
identify the murder-hat. It was eight days 
from my first meeting with the red-headed 
gangster when I decided to see if he would 
reciprocate some of my favors to him. 

"Well, buddy, I may not come up here 
again soon," I told Missouri Mike, on my 
eighth successive call. 



"Why?" 

He sprang to his feet, sensing the dis- 
consolate note that I had taken pains to 
register. 

"Oh, it doesn't matter ; you've enough 
troubles of your own, and I won't feel any 
better by telling you my bard-luck tale." 

"This damn jail-house can hold a lot of 
woe ! Your worries have plenty of com- 
pany in here, Mr. Solomon," Missouri 
Mile remarked grimly. "But you've been 
good to me, and if you are troubled I'd 
like to hear about it." 

Then I told him how hard I had worked 
on the most important assignment of my 
career ; of the gloomy' outlook for success ; 
mentioned the confidence my superiors had 
placed in me, and explained the humiliation 
that would go with defeat. He nodded his 
understanding, without interrupting my 
long speech. 

"The fellow who lost the hat is called 
Bill, and he used to hang out around the 
Wild Duck pool-room. But there are so 
darn many 'Bills' in this town, that I can't 
hope to find him unless I can get his de- 
scription. And if any of the crowd at the 
Wild Duck knows who he is, they wouldn't 
have nerve enough to say a word about it — 
they are that scared I" 

Missouri Mike, I thought, was the 
type who would like to show superior 
courage, and I sought to give him the op- 
portunity to prove himself above intimida- 
tion in shielding whatever he knew of the 
murderers. I was right. I could see bis 
eyes squint through the bars, and his slen- 
der fingers tightened their grip upon the 
iron railing before him. But still, he did 
not comment. 

"Reckon I'll be put back in uniform . . ." 

"Not if I can help you make good on 
this job, you won't!" Missouri Mike sud- 
denly became resolute. "I know a little 
about that guy, Bill, you're trying to find, 
and I ain't no damn squealer for telling 
you." 

It made me feel a little ashamed of the 
deception I had been forced to practise 
when I realized that it was mostly through 
sheer loyalty to me that Missouri Mike 
was induced to relate all the facts of his 
acquaintance with the long-sought Bill — 
who, according to my informant, was un- 
doubtedly one of the trio of murderers. 

IN a subdued voice, that did not reach the 
noisy prisoners in near-by cells, Mis- 
souri Mike gave me a good physical de- 
scription of the star suspect. It was the 
kind of description by which you can pick 
a man from the multitude. 

"But I don't know his real name— Bill's 
a nickname — and I don't know where he 
lives, only that his home is in South 
Memphis. 

"I know he's a crook, and once I heard 
him say something about selling some hot 
stuff to a fence on Wesson Street . . . He 
packed a rod. and once or twice he invited 
me to go with him to pull a stick-up job. 
But that was before they killed the 'Hot 
Tamale King,'" my informant concluded. 

I could tell that Missouri Mike was not 
holding back anything. But, unfortunately, 
he did not possess the complete informa- 
tion I had hoped for. The one thing that 
encouraged me was the minute description 
he had supplied of the suspect. Also, he 
said the man called "Bill" lived in South 
Memphis. That, if true, would narrow 
the area of my search. And I had hopes 



True Detective Mysteries 



111 



of gaining further information from the 
fence, who, Missouri Mike thought, might 
know Bill intimately through their illegal 
transactions. 

_My tedious effort to trace Bill through 
his relations with the fence on Wesson 
Street, which was the next step in the 
investigation, would require a great waste 
of words to explain. And as it led to 
nothing, we will pass that up. Every 
experienced detective who reads this ac- 
count will understand the difficulty of get- 
ting any information of value from the 
gentry who deal in stolen goods. 

That section of the city where my in- 
formant had reason to believe Bill made 
his home, is known as Fort Pickering. 
The section derives its name from the old 
pioneer fortress that once guarded the 
river bluffs at the very point where Her- 
nandez Dc Soto made his historic discovery 
of the Mississippi River. A beautiful little 
city park— De Soto Park— now marks in 
verdant splendor the exact location where 
the stern walls of the old fort withstood 
the fierce attacks of savage red-skinned 
tribesmen of the Mississippi Valley a cen- 
tury and a quarter ago. 

BUT most of the glory of that partic- 
ular neighborhood has decayed with the 
passing of time. The locality is now 
dotted with teeming industrial plants, sur- 
rounded by the squalid residences of fac- 
tory and railroad workers. There are 
many honest, law-abiding citizens among 
the residents of Fort Pickering, in South 
Memphis. And there arc equally as many 
denizens of doubtful type within the nar- 
row confines. The vicinity is largely pop- 
ulated by a transient element, and some of 
Memphis' worst home-bred criminals orig- 
inated in the tenements of that quarter. 

It was in Fort Pickering that I renewed 
my concentrated search of the south side 
for one of the 2,500 "Bills" listed in the 
1927 city directory. Previously, I had de- 
voted most of my time to the northern 
and eastern parts of the city, because the 
murder was so far removed from Fort 
Pickering that I did not consider it prob- 
able that any leads could be uncovered 
on the south side. 

It occurred to me that some of the 
numerous small merchants and shopkeepers 
in Fort Pickering ought to be able to iden- 
tify the hat. For in that section of Mem- 
phis, which is like a city unto itself, most 
of the residents arc known to the com- 
munity merchants, and many of the people 
out that way seldom trade with the down- 
town stores. Also, there are several Jew- 
ish tradesmen with business houses estab- 
lished in that vicinity, and being of that 
race myself, I thought I might find a help- 
ing hand among the merchants. 

But after two whole days of futile en- 
deavor, in which I had shown the murder- 
hat to the proprietors of every store, 
restaurant, barber shop, garage, cleaning 
shop, pool-room speak-easy and what-not, 
I had to go back to Captain Glisson with 
the report that not one of the business men 
in Fort Pickering could remember that 
that hat had been worn by any of their 
customers prior to the murder on Novem- 
ber 21st. 

"Those Fort Pickeringites know how to 
keep their mouths shut," Captain Glisson 
commented. "In most any other section 
of the city, if you had talked to that many 
people, a dozen or more would have 



thought they recognized the hat! Their 
reticence in dealing with the police is deep- 
rooted. Those who are honest enough to 
tell you what they know are too afraid of 
the vicious element to take chances on being 
called a snitch. 

"Of course, there is a possibility that 
the hat really doesn't belong to anyone 
living in that neighborhood. Missouri 
Mike may have given you a bum steer," 
the Captain added. 

"I think he gave me the straight goods, 
as far as he knows," I countered. 

"Better go back and see him again. He 
didn't explain to you fully how he came 
to be so sure that 'Bill' lived in that part 
of town just before the murder was com- 
mitted," the Captain suggested. 

I hiked over to the jail and had an- 
other whispered conference with the in- 
mate who had turned informer for me. 

"Tell me exactly what led you to the 
conclusion that Bill lived in South Mem- 
phis," I said to Missouri Mike. "Did he 
ever tell you that he lived in Fort Pick- 
ering?" 

"No, he never told me nothing about 
where he lived. But one day— it was just 
a little while before that killing, when he 
dropped out of sight— I saw him standing 
down on South Main Street, and he was 
with a woman. I walked up to them and 
asked him if he wanted to play me a few 
games of pool. 

"He said he was fixing to go home with 
his wife, but he'd meet me at the Wild 
Duck a little later. About that time a 
Second Street and De Soto Park car came 
by, and Bill and th' woman caught it, go- 
ing south." 

"Was the woman you saw with him his 
wife?" I inquired hopefully. (Keep Bill's 
"moll" ■ in mind — she plays an important 
part, later on!) 

"Guess she was, but I didn't pay no ten- 
tion to her. And the reason I figured he 
was living in Fort Pickering was because 
they couldn't been goin' nowhere else on 
that car, for it just goes out Iowa Avenue, 
turns alongside the river on Delaware 
Street, makes a loop around Wisconsin to 
Pennsylvania, and turns back toward town 
on Iowa again." 

(This was sound reasoning on Missouri 
Mike's part, as events later— much later ! — 
proved.) 

"/"*AN'T you remember what the woman 
w looked like — the one who boarded the 
De Soto Park car with Bill that day?" If 
he could only describe her as well as he 
had Bill, that would enable me to find Bill 
through her, I thought. "Think hard," I 
implored him. 

"Wish'd I could, but 'tain't no use, for 
I didn't hardly notice her a-tall that day. 
. . . But listen here, Mr. Solomon," Mis- 
souri Mike whispered earnestly, "I'm get- 
tin' in bad with all these damn jailbirds 
on this floor. They think I'm stoolin' to 
you !" 

"Tell 'em you're working me for a piece 
of change, and just stringing me along with 
a lot of baloney," I advised him. 

Missouri Mike adopted that ruse, and it 
served to reinstate him in the good graces 
of his fellow prisoners. In fact, when it 
became whispered about that Missouri 
Mike was conning me for all the cigarettes 
he wanted and getting spending money on 
top of that to supply him with the price to 
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missary, I became a laughing-stock to the 
inmates for being an easy mark, while 
Missouri Mike's stock soared higher and 
higher with the "inside" of crookdom. 

Their inherent hatred for a suspected 
squealer turned to open admiration for him. 
That eliminated all danger to my informant 
in connection with frequent future visits. 

As an example of how well Missouri 
Mike established his alibi for talking with 
me so often, I was called aside one day 
by the warden on that floor. The warden 
said : 

"You are wasting your time on that 
damn crook! He don't know anything 
about that murder case you are working on, 
and he wouldn't tell you anything if he 
did. Every louse in this jail knows he's 
playing you for a softie." 

"Guess you are correct," I told him. be- 
ing inwardly tickled at the serious way 
that the jailer seemed to take my weakness. 

"Of course, any police officers that want 
to pump these prisoners are always wel- 
come, and you can come up here whenever 
you please. I just hate to sec that guy 
make a monkey out of you " 

"Tin glad you tipped me to his game, 
but I may dicker with him a little more, 
just to be doing," I grinned. 

Some stool-pigeon among the inmates 
had, I supposed, circulated Missouri Mike's 
talc to the jailer. And I wasn't taking 
chances on the jailer's carrying the truth 
of the matter back to his informant. Let 
all of them laugh, at me who wanted to, 
I was satisfied that Missouri Mike was 
trying his best to give me a square deal. 

PEELING confident that at least one 
■T key to the identity of John E. Levy's 
slayers was still wrapped in the secretive 
folds of that darkly silent populace on 
the southern fringe of the city, I resolved, 
if necessary, to interview every man, 
woman and child among the ten thousand 
inhabitants served by the De Soto Park 
car line. 

With dogged determination, I began a 
systematic house to house canvass of the 
Fort Pickering section. Sometimes there 
would be no response to my knock at the 
doors. Then I would note the address, and 
repeat the call another day. 

Every time a resident met me at the 
door I would go through my ritualistic 
performance, which was of slight varia- 
tion in the constant repetition. First, I 
would inquire if they happened to know 
a man called "Bill," who had lived in that 
neighborhood during the early part of the 
preceding fall, and I would recite Bill's 
physical description — as given me by 
Missouri Mike. 

The reply was always in the negative, 
sometimes spontaneously — stereotype man- 
ner — with no trace of civility ; but oftener, 
after a moment's deliberation, a more cour- 
teous "No-o-o-o" would come. Then I 
would haul the gray hat out of the paper 
bag I was carrying, and ask if they had 
ever seen anyone in the neighborhood wear- 
ing that hat. 

This generally called for an explanation 
on my part, and knowing full well that 
only a person desirous of seeing the law 
triumph against the foulest breed of crim- 
inals on earth, would ever willingly aid me, 
I frankly abondoned all pretext regarding 
my errand. 

But not a single individual, among the 
thousands to whom I described Bill, and 



to whom 1 exhibited the 7^-sized gray felt 
hat, offered the slightest inkling of hope to 
my search in Fort Pickering. 

Till", diligent quest, continuing day after 
day, naturally led to a general inference 
that sonic clue had been developed to cai^e 
me to comb that particular vicinity so in- 
tently. An undercurrent of gossip and 
rumor became rile around me. Word 
reached the newspapers that I was on a 
hot trail, but when the reporters sought 
confirmation, I told them that my work in 
Fort Pickering was only a routine check. 
But those who did not subscribe to the 
growing belief that I had lost my wits 
were inclined to think I was keeping a 
significant discovery from publication. 

Some Fort Pickering residents evidently 
resented my continued presence in that 
community — probably on account of civic 
pride. Doubtless it looked to them like 
a blanket indictment in which I was charg- 
ing them with shielding a murderer in 
their midst. 

Anyway, after I had haunted the door- 
steps all the way from Virginia Avenue 
eastward to Wisconsin, and Florida Street 
southward to the shanty-boats anchored 
along the border of the river, I returned 
home one night as tired, I daresay, as any 
of the laborers I left behind when the 
whistles blew at quitting time. 

I had just settled down in a chair before 
the fire in my living-room, too weary to 
care for the afternoon editions while wait- 
ing for my dinner, when the telephone 
started to jangle. 
"Hello," I answered listlessly. 
"Who's talking?" a coarse, masculine 
voice demanded. 

"This is Two-Seven-Four-Four-Nine, 
Mr. Solomon's residence," I informed 
him. 

"If you are Solomon, the cop " 

''I am the police officer, if that is what 
you want to know," I flared, irritated at 
his rude opening. 

"Yes! And you are a damn fool! If 
you don't quit snooping around in South 
Memphis, you are going to get humped 
off! Better hunt another beat . . ." 

"Who are y " The instrument 

clicked off to silence the biting sarcasm 
that was making my pulse beat faster 
with each exclamatory word. 

When he abruptly hung up on mc, 1 
held the instrument until the operator came 
on the- line, and succeeded in tracing the 
call to one of the public booths located 
in the lobby at the Union Station. There 
the matter ended. 

That telephone call made me mad as a 
hornet. But despite the anger it provoked, 
there was some compensation in knowing 
that 1 was getting some consideration 
from at least one man. That unmistakable 
quality of seriousness in the voice of my 
anonymous caller was convincing proof 
that he w as no idle jester. 

As the heat of the encounter gradually 
cooled. I began to analyze what was said, 
trying to fathom the motive behind the call. 
In the first place, I decided, there was no 
reason to suppose that anyone of the poorer 
element in the territory alluded to would 
spend a five-cent coin for the simple char- 
ity of preventing my death. And no man 
of the upper strata would employ the tac- 
tics this man had, in passing me a warning. 

That left the obvious conclusion that I 
was getting in somebody's way! 



True Detective Mysteries 



Perhaps he thought I could be bluffed 
out with less effort than would be required 
to bump me off — as he said my fate would 
be, if I didn't desist. But was it for the 
reason that I had unconsciously got alarm- 
ingly close to someone actually connected 
with the murder of the "Hot Tamale King," 
that my continued presence in Fort Pick- 
eting was so strongly resented? There had 
been no visible sign to reward that hope. 

The menacing voice over the wire had 
said : 

"If y° n don't quit snooping around in 
South Memphis, you are going to get 
bumped off!" 

There bad been plenty of emphasis on 
that word — "snooping." The methods I 
had used in trying to locate and identify 
"Bill" could not be rightfully termed 
snooping, and the more I thought about 
it, the less bearing the threat seemed to 
have on that important angle. Wasn't it 
more likely that unlawful enterprises — liq- 
uor smuggling from the river islands, for 
instance — were being jeopardized by my 
continual banging around down there? 

No matter what had prompted the un- 
sympathetic warning, I had no thought 
of heeding it. And to avoid further de- 
rision from my colleagues in the Depart- 
ment, I decided to say nothing about the 
mysterious telephone call. 

WHEN I reported for roll-call at Head- 
quarters the next morning, as I al- 
ways did before going out on the daily 
grind, I was hailed by Sergeant Lemmer, 
who was also headed for the assembly room 
downstairs. 

"Missouri Mike's dope was only the 
bunk, wasn't it, Sol?" Sergeant Lemmer 
delighted in kidding me about the time I 
had wasted in running down false clues. 

"It's beginning to look like he bunked 
me all right, but yet, I think he is on the 
level." 

"On the level, hell !" Sergeant Lemmer 
became more serious. "Missouri Mike is 
just playing you for a chump. You're 
licked and don't know it. Might as well 
give it up ; the case is hopeless." 

"Now, listen, old top, it's all right for 
you to hitch your pessimistic bull onto my 
ear. But I'm asking you as a friend to 
please keep away from Inspector Griffin 
and Captain Glisson with that gloomy 
stuff, for I'll get pulled off the case soon 
enough unless something pops." 

"You are a plain glutton for punishment! 
If I didn't know how hard you are work- 
ing. I might think you had a soft snap, 
and wanted me to help you make it last 
all winter. But honest now, Sol, unless 
there's something doing pretty soon " 

"Oh, I know," I interrupted, "they're 
not going to keep on paying me policeman's 
wages just for being valet to a headless 



hat! But I have the same old hunch that 
I will finally find the right head for that 
hat, if given time enough I" 

"Haven't got any new reasons to bolster 
up that old hunch, have you, Sol?" Lem- 
mer questioned sharply. 

"No," I replied, half -tempted to confide 
the mysterious phone message of the pre- 
vious night. 

BUT, by that time, we had reached the 
door of the assembly room, with no 
time to spare, and the conversation 
dropped. 

It is a rule of the Department that all 
members of the detective division below 
the rank of deputy inspector — including 
patrolmen on special assignment to detec- 
tive duty — are required to answer "present" 
when their names are called from the 
roster. Then, unless otherwise instructed, 
they are to continue upon their regular 
work, after the morning "show-up" of 
criminals — the daily parade of culprits ar- 
rested and held under criminal charges dur- 
ing the preceding twenty- four hours. 

Lieutenant Quianthy intoned the names 
of detectives attached to the various squads 
and special details that morning, pausing 
occasionally at a notation on the list to 
direct one of the men to report to some 
certain commanding officer for specific in- 
structions, or, maybe, f^r transfer from 
one detail to another. 

When my name was called, I was a lit- 
tle startled to hear Lieutenant Quianthy 
say : 

"Report to Inspector Griffin, after roll- 
call !" 

My heart skipped a beat as the sig- 
nificance of that order grasped me. Did 
it mean that I was about to be relegated 
to the ranks? I thought only of the im- 
pending crash that was probably soon to 
come — the approaching interview with the 
Chief that might spell the doom of my de- 
tective career with the Memphis Police 
Department. 

Gloomily, I made my way to Inspector 
Griffin's office. 

What are to be Detective Solomon's 
tidings from his Chief — good, or bad? 
Will his dogged perseverance finally run 
down his quarry, the mysterious "Bill"? 
Will the gray hat fit "Bill"— if found?— 
thereby pinning on him the murder- 
guilt? Of what strange chain of cir- 
cumstances are Mrs. Hatcherley, Char- 
coal Johnny, Missouri Mike, the mys- 
terious links? Thrills and adventures 
galore are encountered by Detective 
Solomon as he reaches the amazing solu- 
tion to his great case, in next month's 
concluding instalment! — December True 
Detective Mysteries, on all news 
stands November 15th! 




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9 9 



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dig for gold. 

He goes into the snowy, storm-ridden wasteland, not mushing through the snowdrifts behind 
slow-moving huskies, but in the new way — soaring through the icy air by plane. 

He finds that although the Mayo-Keno country has taken to flying ships, the lust of gold still 
calls forth man's primitive emotions. Dusty's thrilling adventures and his punchful fights will 
hold your interest throughout every instalment of this great serial of the little-known North. 

The Golden Eagle by Guy Fowler is only one of the many thrilling fiction stories of action and 
adventure in the air appearing in the November issue of Flying Stories — on the news stands 
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114 



True Detective Mysteries 




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(Continued from page 17) 



N. Y. 



made lis the most law-ridden of 
the nations; but the criminal 
statistics contained in our Fed- 
eral and State censuses tend to 
show that in the multitude of 
laws there has not been salva- 
tion. 

e need a better under- 
standing of the relation of 
law to human conduct. And 
we need informed leadership to 
develop legislation on scientific 
lines — a leadership which shall, 
on the one hand, guide our 
citizenship into consciousness 
of the great truth that the very 



faith which our American Con- 
stitution reposes in the ordi- 
nary man, places on the con- 
science of the individual citizen 
a heavier burden than does any 
other form of government; and 
which shall, on the other hand, 
so shape the body of our sub- 
stantive and administrative law 
that it will gear in with the 
wheels of modern progress. 

Under such leadership, the 
Law must, and will, succeed in 
the dissemination of that social 
justice which is the only ade- 
quately secure basis for our 
vast American institutions. 



The Strange Case of Frances St. John Smith 



(Continued from page 24) 



efforts, other State police, with the assist- 
ance of local police forces and boy scouts, 
continued their efforts along the Connecti- 
cut River, which was now commencing to 
freeze over. Motor-boats, manned by- 
troopers, plowed their way through ice and 
wind and continued to grapple without re- 
sults. One motor-boat broke in two under 
the strain, the police barely escaping with 
their lives ; but the search went on. 

Another appeal was sent forth by Mrs. 
Smith. It brought no reply from her 
daughter. 

Thirteen days had elapsed since that 
eventful Friday the 13th, and yet nothing 
definite had been learned. As in the 
cases of the far-famed Charlie Ross and 
Dorothy Arnold disappearances, Frances 
St. John Smith had vanished, taking 
with her seemingly all possible clues. 

In addition to planning to put into mo- 
tion one of the most systematic and ex- 
tensively organized searches that had 
ever been made for a missing person, I 
was also planning an experimental ex- 
cursion in the realms of psychoanalysis. 

A secret conference was called by me 
at the Leeds barracks. Here were 
gathered Doctor Neilson, the president 
of Smith College; St. John Smith, the 
girl's father; J. H. Smith, her uncle; 
Major Thomas J. Hammond, legal ad- 
viser for the Smith family; Chief Ber- 
tholomcw Bresnahan of the Northamp- 
ton police, and members of the State po- 
lice, including Captain Thomas E. Bligh, 
Detective Lieutenants Stokes, Daly, O'Con- 
nor and Ferrari; together with Lieutenant 
Mahoncv, in charge of the Leeds bar- 
racks. 

URING this conference, which occu- 
pied two days, the life of Miss Smith 
was discussed and considered from every 
angle since childhood. Her various ac- 
tivities were traced through public 
schools in New York, to Milton Acad- 



D 



emy and thence to Smith College. To- 
gether with the aid of her family and 
the officials of Smith as well as state- 
ments made by friends and acquaint- 
ances, we attempted to analyze the state 
of mind of Miss Smith, for the purpose 
of arriving at a decision as to what her 
mental condition and actions had been 
since the Christmas holidays, leading up 
to and including her probable mental 
condition and actions on the day of her 
disappearance. The relations of Miss 
Smith with her family circle, with her 
friends and her college intimates were 
carefully considered, and in general 
every possible contact was carefully ana- 
lyzed in an attempt to lead to a definite 
conclusion regarding her disappearance. 

After much exhaustive study, eleven 
theories were evolved during this con- 
ference; that Frances ran away to seek 
"freedom" and self-expression, as she 
had threatened to do years before in 
Switzerland; that she had become a 
teacher of music under another name; 
that she was abducted ; that she had en- 
tered a convent; that she was mentally 
ill and had committed suicide; that she 
became a victim of amnesia through 
overstudy; that she was a victim of a 
degenerate or insane person; that she 
had run away and was in hiding (a 
remedy that she had often suggested her- 
self in letters written her associates) ; 
that she had been badly injured or 
killed in an automobile accident; that she 
was a victim of the white slave traffic : 
that she had fallen in love and had eloped. 

By the end of the second day of our 
conference, all but two of these theories 
had been discarded. It was announced 
to the world through my liaison officer, 
Sergeant Richard K. Townsend, that 
Frances St. John Smith was either the 
victim of amnesia or else had committed 
suicide. 

Thus, through the scientific use of psy- 



True Detective Mysteries 



115 



choanalysis, we sought to arrive at a sol- 
ution to the mystery. How nearly correct 
we were in determining, by this unique 
method, the fate of Frances St. John 
Smith, will be revealed by subsequent de- 
velopments. 

Meanwhile, the search continued. . . . 

"p ENERAL FOOTE?" 

VJ I glanced up at the sound of that 
familiar voice. Lieutenant Daly was 
standing in the doorway. 

"I've £ot it !" he said. 

"Got what?" I replied, noticing for 
the first time that lie held a folded piece 
of paper in his hand. 

"The letter," he said. "The letter I have 
been searching the paper bins for. It's all 
here, too, except for several pieces !" 

I took it from him. It was addressed 
to Miss Hamilton, Frances St. John 
Smith's former governess, and was dated 
Wednesday, January 11th, 1928. 

"It was exactly nine years ago that 
you came, wasn't it?" [I read from 
the letter so painstakingly pasted to- 
gether. Then followed the first of 
those cryptic phrases that had earlier 
attracted our attention :] "I would give 
everything in the world to have it 
1919. 

"Thank you so much for your lovely 
letters. It seems hateful to be back in 
college, but that is my fault and not 
the college's. Please, if you can, for- 
give me [the second phrase], for be- 
having so; talking about myself all 
the time. I do so hope that things are 
going well for you, and that you will 
find the sort of work that you will 
really enjoy." 

"She mailed an almost exact duplicate 
of this letter to that woman the same 
da)-," I reminded Daly, who stood by 
chewing an unlighted cigar. 

"That only goes to bear out all I have 
said," Daly reiterated. "The powder 
puff was enough for me ! There's no use 
continuing the search for that poor 
youngster," he concluded abruptly. "That 
girl is dead, I tell you ! The Connecticut 
has gotten her !" 

And in my heart I felt Detective Daly 
was speaking the truth. 

A GROUP of men, a few days after 
this, were standing about a youth 
apparently in a hypnotic trance, in the 
private office of Chief of Police Bresna- 
han at Northampton. 

A short time before, Joseph Crepeau, a 
hypnotist from Linden, New Jersey, had 
approached Chief Bresnahan and repre- 
sented himself as a man who was suc- 
cessful in locating bodies. He offered to 
throw some important high lights upon 
the disappearance of Miss Smith. 

Skeptical and somewhat dubious, the 
Chief at last gave his consent to the ex- 
periment. An audience, including mem- 
bers of the State troopers, gathered in 
his private office while the hypnotist pro- 
ceeded to place his subject, a youth from 
Springfield, in a hypnotic trance. There 
was a strained silence in that room 
where criminal and police officer were 
accustomed to meet face to face; a si- 
lence that was suddenly broken by the 
labored voice of the youth who lay un- 
conscious before them. 



"It is dark, and it has been raining!" 
he intoned, in substance. "Water is still 
dripping from the trees, and the wind is 
blowing. I am standing close to an un- 
lighted building which stands with many 
ether buildings that I can glimpse on a 
tree-filled land near a pond." 

"Dewey House!" exclaimed somebody 
in an awed voice. The police chief mo- 
tioned for silence. An instant's pause ! 
The voice died away. Nobody spoke. 
The labored voice again commenced its 
monotonous drone ! 

"There is somebody standing on the 
porch of that unlighted building ... 1 
can't just make the figure out, but some- 
body is standing there." — Another pause, 
as though the speaker were peering 
through the murky gloom of a dark 
night. — "Wait a moment. My eyes begin 
to see. It is a man, I'm sure — a young 
man, and he seems to be waiting for 
someone . . . Above the dripping rain 
there comes another noise — it's a win- 
dow. Somebody on the third floor is 
opening a window onto the fire-escape. 
Somebody is peering out. It is a girl's 
head. She looks out again. Now she's 
opening that window wider — wider. She 
is standing on the fire-escape. Now she 
is slowly descending the stairs. 

"She's coming close — closer I She's 
wearing some sort of a coat — a fur col- 
lar is outlined in the dusk. She's moving 
toward the porch. The man steps for- 
ward to meet her. They talk, and then 
move down the street leading from those 
buildings. They turn upon another street, 
and now they are standing on yet another 
street. I can see meadows beyond. . . ." 

MONTVIEW AVENUE at the edge 
of the Northampton Meadows," 
somebody breathed. 

"They are standing there talking — 
talking," the voice continued, disregard- 
ing the interruption. "Now they move 
on, but they are still talking — still argu- 
ing." The voice died away as though the 
subject paused to listen. "I can't hear 
what they say . . . Wait a moment!" 
Again he paused. "No, I can't hear what 
they are saying. They have climbed 
through a hole in the fence and are 
crossing the meadows toward the river. 
They're nearing the embankment. Now 
they're climbing it. Now they stand over- 
looking the river beneath a clump of 
trees. They talk— talk— talk— and still 
there is no agreement !" 

The voice of the speaker suddenly 
stopped. The room seemed vibrant with 
suspense as men leaned forward tensely 
with breath that came thick and fast. 
Again the voice began, and other sounds 
faded. 

"The two still talk ... no, she has left 
him. She turns and goes down the em- 
bankment. She's stopped at the river's 
edge. No! She's wading in. There's a 
swift current, but she doesn't hesitate. 
Still she wades— almost to her knees- 
deeper— deeper ! 

"She's slipped— fallen— the current has 
her. Good God! The river's empty. 
She's gone! She's up again — screaming 
—shrieking for help. The man has 
turned. There's a frightened look upon 
his face. He turns and runs, but not to- 
wards the river. He's across the mead- 
ows and almost to the fence. The girl 





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116 



True Detective Mysteries 




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lias come again to the surface. She opens 
her mouth to scream, but the icy water 
pouring in shuts it off. The man has 
gone. . . . 

"She's quiet now. She's lying still, with 
eyes that do not blink. Something is 
floating near her — it turns and swims 
away. Now she's moving — her arms 
swing, and her feet scrape through the 
slime and mud. The stream has her — first 
this eddy, then that. She's crawling — 
crawling downstream with limbs that do 
not bend and eyes that do not see — 
crawling — twisting — turning along the 
bottom of the river. 

"There's something lying in wait be- 
yond the bend — something long and sin- 
ister, with gnarled, dripping claws that 
undulate in the icy stream. The body 
rolls, and a bit of dress catches on one 
claw — a bit of root from a water-logged 
tree. The river continues along its 
course. Underneath, a sodden mass 
writhes and twists in agony as it clings 
to the dripping tentacles at Smith's 
Ferry. That's it — Smith's Ferry! . . ." 

The voice died away into silence. The 
hypnotic experiment had ended. 

A short time later, the police, im- 
pressed by Crepeau's evident sincerity, 
made their way in the company of the 
hypnotist to the Northampton Meadows 
and climbed to the top of the embank- 
ment. There a broad expanse of sullen 
river greeted them — a river that held 
many secrets buried deep in its muddy 
grasp; horrible secrets, that it occasion- 
ally disgorged in loathsome fashion after 
it had done its will. 

They pointed out to Crepeau that that 
part of the river had been repeatedly 
dragged, without results. But he main- 
tained that the body was either still 
there, or had floated downstream. 

And there the mystic trail ended. 

/"VTHERS did not share our opinion 
that Frances St. John Smith was dead. 

The hue and cry of the chase gradu- 
ally settled down to a grim, unspec- 
tacular routine. The search continued, 
although the Connecticut River remained 
frozen, making further dragging impos- 
sible. In February, Paradise Pond was 
again searched by a. submersible sub- 
marine light without results. More peo- 
ple wrote in demanding ransoms for the 
missing girl. Most of these writers 
were cranks ; others sought "easy" money." 
Several of them were traced and taken 
into custody through our own efforts, 
others by the local police, and still 
another through PPostal Inspectors John 
J. Breslin and John J. Cronin, work- 
ing under Park D. Colvin, Chief Postal 
Inspector for New England. 

In April, Lieutenant Daly died, and 
Lieutenant Manning took over Daly's 
share of the case. Mahoney still shared 
the opinion of Daly, although several ad- 
ditional searches in the river when 
spring came failed to bring any results. 
The hypnotist who made such a sensa- 
tional disclosure to the Northampton 
police several months before wrote that, 
in a new trance, the body had been seen 
to move some distance downstream. 

Mr. and Mrs. St. John Smith still re- 
fused to believe that their daughter was 
dead. All of their time was spent travel- 
ing in an endeavor to run down clues. 



One day they would be in Boston, a week 
or so later in Washington, Chicago, De- 
troit — always searching with hopes that 
never diminished. They refused to ac- 
cept Lieutenant Daly's verdict as final, and. 
frankly, this attitude was shared to a 
more or less degree by many Smith stu- 
dents who had known the girl, and by 
newspaper men who had worked upon 
the case. 

So wherever Dame Rumor beckoned, 
Mr. and Mrs. St. John Smith hastened as 
fast as automobiles and trains could take 
them — here, there and everywhere. One 
clue took them to a Canadian convent. 

A year passed, and no definite infor- 
mation marking the conclusion of this 
remarkable case seemed forthcoming. 

However, my confidence in the opinion 
of my former detective lieutenant re- 
mained unshaken. 

T T was Friday, March 29th, 1929. 
1 Out on the Connecticut River near 
Longmcadow, twenty miles below North- 
ampton, two men in a small boat were 
dragging the waters for the body of a 
dead comrade. 

These men, William McDonald of 
Somerville, Massachusetts, and George 
Johnson of Staten Island, New York, 
employees of the Chapman, Scott, Mer- 
ritt Company, had been searching since 
early morning for one of their fellow em- 
ployees, who had been drowned the day 
before when caught unawares by the 
swiftly moving current. 

Hour after hour they grappled in the 
icy waters without success. Now, still 
thirty feet offshore, they had worked 
their way into a little cove, a thousand 
or more feet from the Longmcadow rail- 
road station of the New York, New 
Haven & Hartford Railroad that has been 
closed and boarded up for the last few 
years. 

Again and again they threw their 
hooks into the water; on shore, empty 
camps and closed summer cottages en- 
hanced the lonel iness of the scene. Min- 
utes grew into hours. The two men grad- 
ually drew closer and closer to a small 
wooden landing near a spot where a 
long branch of a submerged tree ap- 
peared a few inches above the water. 

Again the hooks were thrown ia 

This time they held. 

"I guess we've got him, Bill!" said 
Johnson 

"Either that, or we've hooked the tree," 
Bill replied, giving the line a jerk. Far 
below, the line moved as he pulled. The 
hooks were embedded in some movable 
object. "George, we've got something!" 
he shouted. The line slackened. "What- 
ever it is, it's bound for the top I" 

Now, far beneath, they glimpsed a 
swirl— a mass— a white mass that twisted 
and turned in the rapid current. It 
rose to the surface rapidly. It broke 
water. Both men started back from the 
edge of their boat. The almost nude body 
of a young woman had been brought to 
the surface, features and form totally un- 
recognizable from the long immersion. 

Clinging to the tip of one of the grap- 
pling-hooks was a piece of rotting, 
water-soaked fabric— fabric that still 
showed faint traces of orange dye. 

"Good God!" breathed 'Bill, in awe. 
"Who is ur 



True Detective Mysteries 



117 



The body was removed at once to 
undertaking rooms in Springfield. All 
sorts of rumors spread quickly about the 
city that either Alice Corbett or Frances 
St. John Smith had been found. Both the 
police and the girls' parents were noti- 
fied. 

1 \\a< called on the long-distance 
shortly afterward, and ordered Lieuten- 
ants Manning and Dacey to report with- 
out delay in company with Major Ham- 
mond at the undertaking parlors. Height, 
weight and other characteristics all 
seemed to indicate that the body was that 
of Miss Smith. This belief was also fur- 
thered by the few bits of orange fabric 
found on the body and removed from the 
tip of the grappling iron, for it resem- 
bled the jersey material she was said to 
have been wearing on the day of her 
disappearance. 

In the minds of the investigating au- 
thorities, however, these marks were not 
enough to establish the identification 
definitely. A careful examination of the 
mouth followed, and an appeal was made 
for further dental information from the 
various dentists who had served Miss 
Smith during her lifetime. 

COMMUNICATION was established 
by telephone with Doctor Carleton 
J. Wood, who had done Miss Smith's 
dental work when she was a child and 
later during her three years at Milton 
Academy. From a telephonic description 



of the victim's mouth and teeth, includ- 
ing two silver caps and strengthening 
wire that had been found affixed, Doc- 
tor Wood thought there was no question 
of identification. To be certain, however, 
he agreed to make a special trip to 
Springfield. He brought with him a mold 
of the lower jaw as well as several gold 
bands that he had fitted to her teeth 
some years before and later removed. 
These readily slipped into place. 

Frances St. John Smith had been found! 

Later the same day an autopsy was 
performed and all important facts were 
communicated to the dead girl's family 
by Major Hammond. A simple funeral 
was arranged at the Smiths' summer 
home in Amherst, Massachusetts. The 
body in a sealed casket was reverently 
buried in Wildwood Cemetery. 

THUS ends the tragic story of Frances 
St. John Smith, a story that held the 
front pages of newspapers all over the 
United States for many a day and en- 
gaged at one time or another the police 
forces of the entire civilized world. The 
rest, which remains unknown and will 
probably be forever untold, is shared by- 
Frances St. John Smith and Detective 
Lieutenant Joseph V. Daly, the two prin- 
cipals in this unfortunate affair which 
bad its beginning on one Friday the 
13th. 

And for them — mysteries no longer 
exist. 



Stalking the "Tiger Girl" of Los Angeles 



(Continued from page 31) 

time, now, before the daring little band 
that had so harassed and brazenly defied 
us, would at last fall into the police net! 
The beginning of the end came speedily. 
About 1 A. M. on October 10th, Paul 
Foster, attendant at a Shell oil station, on 
the corner of Wilshire Boulevard and Ser- 
rano Street, was checking up the night's 
receipts, prior to closing. 

"STICK 'EM UP, BIG BOY!" snapped 
a crisp voice at his shoulder. "I'll take 
that money!" 

The startled attendant whipped around 
and found himself staring into the barrel 
of a .32 automatic, in the hand of a grim- 
jawed young man. He promptly stepped 
aside, with hands obediently upraised. 
With his left hand the bandit scooped all 
the cash— about $18 — from the open regis- 
ter. At the same instant the crunch of 
gravel indicated that a car was rolling 
into the station ! 

Like a flash, the bandit thrust the gun 
into his right coat pocket and half -swung 
around, just as a touring-car containing 
two uniformed police officers came to a 
Stop beside the pumps a few yards away. 

"Go on talking!" the bandit growled at 
Foster. "Don't tip 'em off, or I'll . . ." 
He pointed the barrel of the automatic 
through the cloth of his coat. 

"Say, buddy, how about some service?" 
shouted the waiting police officer. 

For a split-second the bandit's gaze left 



companion, Officer Whisman, and both pa- 
trolmen, drawing their guns, jumped to 
the ground. 



AN oath and a muffled report rang 
simultaneously, as the bandit f. 



Foster's face — long enough for the latter 
to wink frantically at Officer Rassmussen, 
of Wilshire Division, seated at the wheel 
of the car. A few hurried words to his 



out 
fired 

through his coat— and Officer Whisman 
reeled as a bullet pierced his stomach. 

The bandit dashed toward the sidewalk— 
but never reached it alive. His flight cut 
short by a fusillade of shots from the 
officers' guns, he crumpled to the pavement 
with a bullet in his brain. 
He died without a groan. 
Officer Rassmussen called Police Head- 
quarters. An ambulance was rushed to the 
scene. Whisman was removed to the Re- 
ceiving Hospital, where a major operation, 
hurriedly performed, saved his life. 

The body of the slain gunman was taken 
to the morgue. 

Detectives V. C. Miller, W. J. Davis, 
F. A. Knepp, N. A. Curran and T. M. 
Hamilton, who responded to Rassmussen's 
call, made an investigation of the shooting. 

The dead bandit was identified as John 
Watnick. In one of his pockets was found 
a deposit receipt for a Chrysler roadster 
rented at 12:15 A. M., October 9th, from 
the Figueroa auto rental company. This 
car the officers found standing on Serrano 
Street, a few hundred feet north of the 
Shell oil station. Another pocket con- 
tained a master plumber's certificate, in the 
name of John Watnick, of 2707 New Jer- 
sey Street. 

The officers went to that address, where 
the dead gunman's aged parents were found 




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Mail th e_Coupon_T^da y 

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New material jrivala Irish linen in 
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Saves time, laundry 
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AGENTS 

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Write for Frt» 
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118 




BE A DETECTIVE \ 

Earn Big Money 

Experience unnecessary. Write, I 

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I 2190 Broadway New York I 

1 Mail FREE Detective Particulars to 1 

I I 

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Fortune Teller's 
Dream Book 

■iiiliini dreams and t II* fortunes" with 
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ROBERT MORE CO ,0ept 5A96, Chicago 



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True Detective Mysteries 

to be living. They had not seen their son 
for about four months. He had left, say- 
ing that no money could be made in Los 
Angeles, and hinting at an intention to go 
north. The aged Watnick couple were 
taken to the morgue and there, with piti- 
ful demonstrations of grief, identified the 
body of the slain outlaw as that of their 
son. 

The night manager at the Figueroa auto 
rental company was interviewed. He in- 
formed the officers that Watnick and a 
young man named Al Whizen, sometimes 
together, at other times separately, had 
frequently rented cars, for from twelve to 
twenty-four hour periods. They seldom 
had cash for a deposit, but would leave a 
diamond ring or wrist watch. 

When renting the Chrysler roadster in 
which he took his last ride, Watnick told 
the rental manager that he had lost his 
last cent in a crap game that day. He 
left a diamond ring as deposit, with the 
remark that he would pass by a friend's 
house and get some money. At the same 
time, he borrowed fifty cents to "eat on." 

During the following days, many hold- 
up victims were taken to the morgue, and 
there identified the body of Watnick as 
that of bandit "Number 2" on robberies 
committed by two men and the Tiger Girl. 

A THREE weeks' lull that was indeed 
deathly, so far as banditry was con- 
cerned, followed the shooting of John 
Watnick. The Whizen home was "cov- 
ered," but Al neither showed up, nor sent 
any mar 1 there. The Tiger Girl and her 
confederates were either in close hiding, 
we concluded, or had fled the city. 

There was no news or trace of the badly 
wanted fugitives until. . . . 

On the morning of November 1st, 1927, 
we received a telegram from Chief of 
Police J. C. Gunning, of Dallas, Texas, in 
which we were informed that Al Whizen 
and wife, formerly Ruth Rosecraus, alias 
Betty Berryman, together with a girl giv- 
ing her name as "Johnnie" Green, and a 
young man named David Judkins, had just 
been taken into custody 1 

The Cadillac car, in possession of the 
fugitives at the time of their arrest, was 
also held by the Dallas authorities. 

We at once obtained Grand Jury indict- 
ments for the quartet, and wired for photo- 
graphs and finger-prints of the fugitives. 
It was necessary to have them positively 
identified by robbery victims in Los An- 
geles in order to obtain extradition papers. 

In a short time, the gallery pictures ar- 
rived from Dallas. Al Whizen, Ruth 
Rosccrans, David Judkins and Johnnie 
Green were all identified by a number of 
people whom they had held up. Extradi- 
tion papers prepared, I left for Texas with 
Detective T. D. Alsup and Policewomen 
Marie Dinuzzo and Estella Wallen, to re- 
turn the prisoners. 

Arrived at Dallas while certain prelim- 
inary legal formalities were being com- 
plied with, we learned how the arrest of 
the "Whizen gang" had been brought 
about. 

During the last week in October, De- 
tective R. V. Savage, of our Department, 
was in Dallas to extradite one Dave Prince, 
badly wanted safe burglar. 

During a conversation with Detective 
Sergeants Rader and Doughty, of the 
Dallas police department, these officers told 



Lieutenant Savage of four young people, 
driving a Cadillac touring-car, with a Cali- 
fornia license, who had been arrested on 
suspicion a few days before and shortly 
afterward released. 

Descriptions of two of the suspects 
dovetailed neatly with those of Al Whizen 
and Ruth Rosccrans. 

With the energetic cooperation of the 
Dallas police, Lieutenant Savage located 
the car on the street that same day. Alone 
in the automobile at the time was a young 
man who gave his name as David Judkins. 
He was placed under arrest. After con- 
siderable questioning, he gave the officers 
the address of the Whizcns, at an apart- 
ment on Maple Street. 

There Detective Savage and associate 
officers found Al Whizen and his wife 
(Ruth Rosecrans, or "Betty Berryman." 
the "Tiger Girl"), and a young woman who 
gave her name as Johnnie Green. All were 
taken into custody. 

While searching the apartment, Detec- 
tive Savage discovered the black hat with 
rhinestone trimming that the Tiger Girl 
had worn on several hold-up jobs— and 
which she made a futile attempt to destroy 
before it fell into the officer's hands. 
Hanging in a closet, he found a white fur 
neckpiece and a brown fur jacket that had 
also figured in certain official descriptions 
of the Tiger Girl's attire. 

ON the occasion of our first visit to the 
Dallas County Jail I was, first and 
foremost, keenly curious to see and talk to 
the Tiger Girl. In that connection I met 
with a surprise that amounted to severe 
shock. When we arrived, we were in- 
formed that she was in chapel, at prayer 1 
A matron escorted me to the chapel in 
the jail building, and from the doorway I 
saw a woman's figure kneeling before a 
simple altar, a sleek, brown head devoutly 
bent, while a kind- faced, elderly priest 
stood at her side, talking earnestly 1 

As I turned quietly away, I was told 
that "Ruth," as she was known to the 
matrons, impudent and defiant for the first 
few days after her arrest, had suddenly 
taken to reading a Bible that had been left 
in her cell. Shortly afterward she had 
indicated a willingness to listen to the ex- 
hortations of a Catholic priest who reg- 
ularly visited the jail with a view to lead- 
ing the erring to repentance, and to seek 
consolation in the truths and beauties of 
the Roman faith. 

During the several days that followed, 
the Tiger Girl had altered ; a subdued 
thought fulness replaced her first bitterness 
and defiance. 

As I prepared to interview our other 
prisoners, I looked forward with interest 
to my first talk with this bobbed-haired 
gunwoman, who had so suddenly developed 
an "humble and a contrite heart" ! 

David Judkins proved to be a slender 
youth, with a pleasant but rather weak 
face, and a quiet manner. We found him 
badly frightened and greatly depressed by 
his plight. 

In response to questions, he told us, in 
a low. husky voice that broke more than 
once, that his age was seventeen, and that 
his old widowed mother was living alone 
in North Hollywood. 

He said he had met the Whizens about 
October 1st. As he stood on Hollywood 
Boulevard awaiting a street-car, a touring- 



True Detective Mysteries 



119 



car containing two women and a man had 
driven slowly by. . . . The younger girl 
smiled faintly as her eyes met his, and his 
gaze followed the car to the corner, where 
it turned. 

It was only a minute or two later that 
the car, having circled the block, drove 
rapidly up, and stopped. This time the 
pretty girl was sitting in the tonneau alone. 
Her girl friend sat beside the man at the 
wheel. 

"Want a ride?" she queried, in a soft, 
southern voice, and with a coquettish ges- 
ture motioned to a place beside her. 

"Oh— ah— sure . . ." The boy eyed the 
couple in the front scat doubtfully. 

"Get right in, kid," the man urged, cor- 
dially, and as the dark-eyed girl flashed 
another alluring smile, David Judkins un- 
hesitatingly took a scat beside her, and 
they drove on. . . . 

Thus began the brief acquaintance des- 
tined to end so tragically. 

The young girl introduced herself as 
Miss Johnnie Green, and her companions 
as Al Whizen and Ruth Rosccrans. Dur- 
ing the next few days, Judkins called fre- 
quently at their apartment and drove with 
his new friends in the Cadillac car. 

He was at first unwilling, through fear 
of implicating himself, or out of loyally to 
his "friends." to discuss the robberies they 
had committed. Once convinced, however, 
that they would all be identified anyway by 
persons they had held up, he 



"/^VNE night, when we were riding, Al 
v/ stopped the car in front of a drug 
store. I don't remember the exact loca- 
tion. Al and Ruth got out and told me 
to come with them. Johnnie Green stayed 
in the car. Al had a gun, and so did 
Ruth ... I don't know just how it all 
happened . . . Just as we went in the 
store, Al shoved a gun in my hand and 
said, 'Watch that kid!' He meant a little 
boy standing in the front part of the drug 
store. 

"As I remember, Al went back into the 
place. Ruth stood near a counter on the 
right side of the store. Then the kid began 
to cry, saying, 'Don't shoot vie!' 1 said, 
'Don't ivorry — / won't shoot you!' Then 
Al and Ruth came toward me together. 
Al said. 'Come on!' We ; 
got in the car." 

"When and where did you first hear of 
any money or jewelry taken in that hold- 
up?" I asked. 

"At the house, afterward, Al told me 
that Ruth got a diamond ring from a wo- 
man in there. Two days later he said he 
sold the ring. I don't know where." 



"Were you on any other robberies with 
these people?" 
"No!" 

"You might as well tell the truth, be- I 
cause if you were, the people will identify 
you," I reminded biro. 

Pale with fright, and with sweat moist- 
ening his forehead, the boy insisted that 
that was the only "job" he ever pulled — a 
statement which was later found to be 
untrue! He admitted that Ruth and Al 
had talked of other robberies, committed 
before he knew them. 

"How and when did you leave I.os 
Angeles?" 

"I believe it was on October eleventh. 
I had gone to live with the crowd then. 
They were giving me room and board. 
Then— something happened. They sud- 
denly decided to leave, and asked if I 
wanted to come along. I did. First we 
went to El Paso, then to Fort Worth, 
where we were arrested on suspicion and 
then turned loose." He paused and nerv- 
ously mopped his face with a handkerchief. 
"I— I meant to leave the crowd then, but 
we came on to Dallas. 

"Some of my teeth went bad, and I 
started to go to a dentist. I figured on 
staying here until the work was done, and 
until I could get money to pay for it. . . . 
If it hadn't been for that, I wouldn't have 
been here with the crowd," he finished, 
brokenly, averting his face to hide tears 
that suddenly filled his eyes. 

It should be said for David Judkins that 
at no time did he express any bitterness or 
resentment against those harder characters 
who had taken advantage of his weakness 
and impressionability ; who had, for utterly 
indefensible reasons, snatched him up and 
dragged him into the dizzy whirlpool of 
crime that was to engulf them all 1 

JOHNNIE GREEN was a slender bru- 
nette, with rather delicate features. Her 
voice was low and very sweet in tone. She 
spoke with a pronounced southern enuncia- 
tion and a decided drawl that had an odd 
little charm all its own. 

She gave her age as twenty-one. She 
had married at seventeen, but was sepa- 
rated from her husband, whose whereabouts 
she did not know. She had a three-year- 
old boy, living with her parents in Texas. 

Before her ill-starred meeting with the 
Tiger Girl and Al Whizen, she had been 
employed as a waitress in a west side tea- 
room, in Los Angeles. 

It developed that she, too, had been 
"picked up" on a street in Hollywood, 
while waiting for a bus, by Whizen and 
Ruth and a man whom she knew as "Jack" 



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(John Watnick). A few clays later she 
was persuaded to go to live with her new- 
found friends — who promised her plenty of 
"fun" and excitement— when they offered 
her room and board. 

She admitted having participated in four 
hold-ups — two oil stations, a drug store and 
the Lafayette Cafe. Pressed for details, 
she insisted, with a tremulous little smile, 
that on these occasions she was "so scared 
and nervous that she just couldn't remem- 
ber anything" — except that, after the cafe 
robbery, they had all rounded out the eve- 
ning at a cabaret 1 

She declared that she herself had never 
held a gun in her life, and staunchly denied 
ever having seen firearms in the hands of 
her friends. They had never given her 
any of the money taken in the robberies- 
just "room and board." She loyally main- 
tained that she had never heard her friends 
plan or discuss hold-up jobs. 

"When they wanted to talk, they went 
off by themselves," she explained, naively. 

Questioned regarding the personal rela- 
tions of the rest of the band, Johnnie de- 
clared, with a ring of indignation in her 
usually soft voice, that "Jack" had treated 
Ruth "awfully cruel," and had more than 
once threatened her life. "That was be- 
cause he was so terribly jealous of Al," 
she added. 

She told us that Ruth had sometimes 
talked quite frankly about her past life. 
It seemed she had first married a man 
named Rusk. There had been a divorce. 
After coming to California, she had loved 
and lived with a handsome young sales- 
man named Berryman. It appeared he had 
promised to marry her, but had tired of 
her and finally abandoned her without 
keeping the agreement. It was Johnnie's 
belief that it had been because her heart 
was broken and her pride so cruelly hurt, 
that Ruth had hurled herself into a life of 
crime. 

The personal appearance of Albert 
Whizen was something of a surprise. 
Slender, but well-proportioned, lithe and 
graceful as a young leopard in his move- 
ments, his face and head might have served 
as a model for one of Raphael's saints. 
His features were good, although rather 
soft ; his complexion was a clear, rich 
olive. Most striking of all were his eyes, 
large, long-lashed, of a warm, caressing 
dark-brown. They might have been a 
beautiful woman's proudest boast. 

He was not as "soft" as his appearance 
implied. He stubbornly refused from first 
to last, despite the damning evidence 
against him, to make any statements what- 
soever regarding his activities. With only 
an occasional flare of defiance, he showed 
a fatalistic acceptance of the penalty he 
knew he would have to pay for his crimes. 

AND then ... the Tiger Girl I 
By chance — or perhaps by studied 
dramatic design upon her part — I first saw 
the bobbed-haired bandit face-to-face alone 
in her cell, in simple, black garb, seated 
upon a low stool, while a shaft of golden 
afternoon sunshine, through a barred 
window, fell full upon her face. In her 
lap lay a tiny Bible, open. 

However, her eyes, as she turned and 
looked at me. had the bright, alert im- 
pudence of a bird on the wing! 

"I know I've done wrong." she declared, 
gravely, after a few remarks had been 



exchanged, "and I'm willing to pay the 
price. In fact, we were all considering 
returning to Los Angeles to surrender to 
the police, when we were arrested I" I 
smiled politely, accepting this statement 
witli mental reservations. However sincere 
her present regret might be, I doubted that 
it dated back to her last day of freedom! 

"I'm glad it's all over," she went on. 
"I know I'm going to prison, but it doesn't 
worry me. All that ... in Los Angeles 
. . . seems like a nightmare to me now . . . 
When I get out of prison, I'm going to 
spend the rest of my life helping other 
girls to avoid the mistakes I made!'' She 
fought desperately to force back the tears 
that filled her eyes, and I could not doubt 
her entire sincerity at that moment. 

Ruth Rosecrans proved to be a woman 
of many moods, with a character of many 
sides. 

At one moment, she abruptly announced 
her willingness to "tell all." Five minutes 
later, she decided to wait until we returned 
to Los Angeles — and tell it to the judge! 

TJOWEVER, bit by bit, in disjointed 
I* fragments, as we journeyed back to 
California, she told the story of her life, 
parts of it to me, others to Policewomen 
Dinuzzo and Wallen, both with long ex- 
perience in successfully handling delinquent 
girls and difficult women criminals. 

She gave her age as twenty-one ; her na- 
tive State as Oklahoma — a territory, inci- 
dentally, that has produced some of the 
boldest desperadoes that ever terrorized 
law-abiding communities. It was long a 
wild, unsettled country, and even now a 
strong strain of Indian blood courses 
through the veins of many of its people, 
rendering them fearless of death. 

Her father was an oil driller, and the 
family was in modest circumstances. Left 
an orphan when still a little girl, there 
followed a drab year in an orphanage be- 
fore she was adopted by a family named 
Rosecrans. She was known as Viola Ruth 
Rosecrans until after she came to Los 
Angeles. 

At times, when in a pleasant mood, she 
spoke with affection of her foster-parents. 
Again, lighting a cigarette and contemptu- 
ously blowing a spiral of smoke in my 
direction, she announced in a hard voice : 

"I've been schooled in hatred all my life! 
My soul was killed by hate long ago!" 

It was evident, however, that later events 
cast a somber shadow over earlier 
memories. 

She had a high school education, fol- 
lowed by a business course. She was re- 
ticent regarding her marriage and divorce, 
and it was evident that the incident was a 
painful one. She worked for a time as a 
stenographer, and in 1925 came to Los 
Angeles with her employer, a promoter. 
It was in his office that she met the hand- 
some and persuasive Berryman. fell madly 
in love with him and left her position to 
live with him. 

While her ardor still burned, he had tired 
of the situation — and ended it. 

"What did I do then?" She repeated 
my question, her face dark and brooding. 
"Oh, everything — bootlegging, gambling 
and other rackets! Work?" She laughed 
jeeringly. "Oh, yes ; sometimes I worked 
as a waitress." 

It was in August, 1927, that she met 
John Watnick. 



True Detective Mysteries 



121 



"1 was lunching with a s>irl friend in a 
Bnoadway cafe," she told us. "My 
friend saw Jack — I knew ihc man you call 
Wathi'ck as 'Jack Hill' — and Al Whizen at 
another table. She introduced them to me. 
Then she took Al under her wing, so to 
speak, and left Jack to me. We made a 
date for that night, and went out with these 
boys in a car. . . . Well. Jack tried to make 
love to me. I didn't like him and I didn't 
encourage him. Besides, I noticed he had 
a gun in his pocket. 

"Two weeks later we girls went out 
with these fellows again. Jack talked and 
talked . . . oh, yes," she shrugged, "he 
certainly had a beautiful line! He made 
me believe he was crazy about me. 
Well . . ." — here the pretty dimples fea- 
tured in our special bulletin came into play 
slightly — "I listened . . . and believed him I" 

"Yes?" I prompted, as she lapsed again 
into silence. 

"Oh . . . while we were driving back 
from a cabaret, the boys parked the car 
and left us for a few minutes. Then they 
came back, both very nervous. Again I 
noticed a gun in Jack's pocket, and 1 knew 
then that something was wrong! After we 
dropped Al and my girl friend. Jack took 
me home. Then, because I believed he was 
really in love with me, I tried to talk to 
him; told him I believed he was pulling 
hold-ups. I tried to tell him it was wrong. 
1 threatened to tell the police." 

"And he refused to listen:" 

"He flew into a rage. 'Don't think you'll 
ever get a chance to play the stool-pigeon,' 
he snarled. 'From now on, you're going 
witli me! You'll do what I'm doing, or 
I'll kill you !' 

"He ordered me to meet him for dinner 
the next night. I didn't go. Next day he 
called me on the phone and repeated his 
threat, which he said he'd carry out, if I 
didn't meet him that night. And, so help 
me God . . ." — her clasp tightened about 
the little Bible she was holding as she 
talked — "I believed him ! I feared for my 
life! 

"CO I met him, and we went to dinner. 

M Al joined us. After that we went out 
and rented a car. I was nervous. I feared 
something terrible was going to happen. 
But 1 really didn't know what we were 
going to do until we drove up near a filling 
station. 

"'Now!' said Jack, and looked into my 
eyes in such a way that he seemed to 
have me hypnotized. 'Here's where you're 
going to get out and do your stuff!' He 
got out, and I followed him mechanically. 
Jack told Al to drive into the station. 
Then he ordered me to follow him . . . 
afterward, it all seemed like a dream, a 
nightmare. The first thing I knew, Jack 
had drawn a gun on the two station men, 
and commanded them to tell me where the 
money was! One of the men opened the 
register. 

"'Get the money!' Jack growled at me. 
I did. And then Jack backed out of the 
station, keeping me between himself and 
the men all the time. I was shaking, and 
so nervous I could hardly walk!" 

"The men said you were perfectly cool," 
I interposed. I didn't believe everything 
she said, but thought, on the whole, she 
was sticking to the facts. 

She laughed bitterly. 

"Maybe I seemed so to them ... I be- 



lieve Jack had me hypnotized — the coward ! 
He purposely kept me between himself and 
the men, so I'd be killed, if they chose to 
shoot ! Two weeks afterward he held up 
this same station. He made me sit in the 
car, in full view of the men, if they wanted 
to shoot. Jack made Al get the money 
that time. He was already jealous of 
Al, and hated him ! I believe he hoped Al 
would get killed! 

"Of course, I didn't realize all that then. 
When I got over that first nervousness, it 
seemed so easy, and thrilling, too — espe- 
cially when I held a gun myself!" Per- 
haps unconsciously, a little ring of profes- 
sional pride crept into the Tiger Girl's 
voice as she made this statement. 

"DL'T even if I'd wanted to back down. 

Jack's threats would have forced me 
to go on. We . . . we were living together 
then. Sometimes he loved me madly. 
Again he was ... a brute!" She hid her 
face in her hands and tried to choke back a 
sob. "Then it was plain hell for me every 
day. Everything I did was wrong, and for 
every mistake there was a beating ! 

"Al was kind to me. It didn't take me 
long to see that he was a very different 
sort of man from Jack. At first I was 
just grateful for his kindness and pity. 
Then, as I came to hate Jack, because he 
was so cruel to me. I realized that I loved 
Al. Jack was insanely jealous. Al and I 
hardly dared look at each other. Then, as 
Jack saw that Al and I loved each other, 
hate and revenge filled his heart. I know 
now that he wanted one or both of us to 
be killed ! 

"Then Jack suddenly decided that we 
needed another girl to cover up our opera- 
tions. He said that if FOUR of us drove 
around in the car during the day, people 
wouldn't connect us with the party of 
THREE pulling robberies at night. It was 
right after that that we picked up Johnnie 
Green. 

"When we got her up to the apartment. 
Jack called me into another room, drew 
his gun and said: 'If you don't talk to 
that girl and make her come in on this . . . 
you know what this means!' — and lie lev- 
eled the gun at my heart. I thought he 
only wanted Johnnie to ride around with 
us. I didn't know he meant for her to 
take part in the hold-ups ! 

"God knows I'm sorry for her! After- 
ward, when she told me she was married 
and had a kid, it broke me up ! But then 
I was afraid for my own life; what could 
we do? 

"About a week after that, Jack decided 
we should leave town for a while, because 
the police were searching apartments for 
stolen goods and money. By the way, Jack 
always kept all the money, and gave small 
amounts to me and Al as we had to have 
it. They bought an old Stutz car, and we 
drove to Frisco in it. They burned the 
bearings out driving up, and left it some- 
where in a garage. Al bought a Cadillac 
in Frisco, and after two or three days, we 
drove back in it, and rented another apart- 
ment. 

"Then Jack decided that we needed an- 
other man. It was then that we picked up 
David Judkins. Jack made Johnnie, Al, 
David and me take an upstairs apartment. 
He rented a room downstairs so, he said, 
to be able to keep tab on us. Jack made 
Al and me register under my maiden name. 



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He said he'd let Al have me for a little 
while, as we wouldn't have much longer to 
live, anyway . . ." Here she broke off to 
laugh bitterly. 

BY that time, Al and I were sick 
and tired of it all! And how we 
hated Watnick! Tims and again we 
talked of killing him! .We saw there 
was no escape! It had to ba him— 
or us!" 

Completely overcome by tragic mem- 
ories, for the first time the Tiger Girl 
broke down and wept. 

"Then — I think it must have been the 
ninth or tenth of October — " she finally re- 
sumed, "Al and I told Jack we wouldn't 
go on any more robberies; that we pre- 
ferred death ! For once he was calm. He 
told us if we'd go on one more job and let 
him keep the proceeds, he'd go his way and 
let us alone. We agreed. But he double- 
crossed us — the liar and coward! And we 
almost lost our lives that night ! I think 
he meant that vvc should ! 

"After that first attempt, that night, Al 
and I went back to the apartment to wait 
for Jack to return. Time passed. We 
didn't hear him come in ... In the mean- 
while, we talked it all over, and decided 
to go downstairs and kill him when he 
came back. We meant to give him a fair 
fighting chance — but it had to be cither 
Jack or us. . . . 

"Well, he never returned. . . . 
"About midnight, I got a hunch that 
he'd been killed or captured. I told Al 
we'd better go down-town to a hotel. We 
did. Next morning. Al got a paper that 
told all about Jack being killed in an oil 
station robbery!" Here the face of the 
Tiger Girl lighted with a joy that was 
truly ferocious. "God! But I was glad 
he was dead ! I wanted to kill him myself, 
as God hears me I" But a moment later 
the Tigress became the typical woman. 

"To think he didn't even say my name 
before he died — or anything for which I 
might forgive him for all he did to 
mc ! . . . 

"Well," she resumed, after a few mo- 
ments of bitter silence, "I decided that we'd 
better leave town right away. I made 
everybody pack in a hurry. We drove out 
of Los Angeles that afternoon. We threw 
away the guns we'd been using about ten 
miles out of town." 

However completely Ruth Rosecrans 
might have been dominated by John Wat- 
nick; her own personality had shown itself 
as a masterful one, as far as the surviving 
members of the band were concerned. It 
was she who ordered and directed the swift 
flight from Los Angeles. When the 
quartet were arrested on suspicion in Fort 
Worth, it was she who insisted upon mar- 
rying Al Whizen to save him from prose- 
cution on a Mann Act charge. It was 
apparent that she loved him, with the affec- 
tion of a very domineering mother for a 
dependent child. 

He appeared to he passionately fond of 
I her, and docilely obeyed all her com- 
mands save one : from first to last he re- 
fused, even at her entreaties, to make any 
statement regarding his crimes. 
As we neared Los Angeles, Ruth's re- 
j ligious fervor abated, even though she read 
frequently from her little Bible. She had 
a lively natural wit, was ever ready with 
I a snappy and sometimes not overrefincd 
1 comeback to any remark, and laughed and 



joked with a gayety that contrasted no- 
ticeably with the depression that rested 
upon her companions. At times she was 
deliberately insolent in her manner. When 
I lapsed into silence — then the dimples came 
into play at once. 

After arriving in Los Angeles, our 
prisoners made practically the same state- 
ments they had given us en route. Al 
Whizen chose to maintain his stolid si- 
lence. 

However, the four were placed in the 
shadow-box (the box where, under bril- 
liant electric illumination, suspects arc ex- 
hibited for identification), and shown up 
to all victims who had been held up during 
their brief reign of terror. 

The result was that Al Whizen was 
identified on thirty-two robberies (includ- 
ing a number committed with Watnick be- 
fore the Tiger Girl appeared on the scene). 
Ruth Rosecrans Whizen was "made" on 
sixteen, David Judkius on three, and John- 
nie Green positively identified on two hold- 
ups. 

Money and jewels taken by the 
"Whizen mob" amounted to between fif- 
teen and twenty thousand dollars. 

They had relieved victims of eleven 
rings, some of them set with flawless 
diamonds of great value. None of them 
were recovered. Only Al Whizen could 
have thrown light on this phase of the 
case — and he refused to do so. He was a 
diamond-setter by trade, and we had no 
doubt that he pried the stones from their 
original mountings, reset them and dis- 
posed of them to sundry fences. 

He had traded in a diamond ring on 
the Cadillac car purchased in San Fran- 
cisco. It was traced and returned to our 
Department. However, none of our Los 
Angeles robbery victims could identify the 
ring. Reset by Whizen, as was undoubt- 
edly the case, it was impossible to identify 
the diamond ! 

On January 20th, 1928. Al and Ruth 
Whizen, the Tiger Girl, were each per- 
mitted to plead guilty to two counts of 
first degree robbery. Each was sentenced 
to serve from twet ty-one years to life in 
San Qucntin Penitentiary. 

THE court-room scene was brief but 
poignant. A dramatic climax was 
reached when Ruth Rosecrans sprang to 
her feet and made an impassioned appeal 
for mercy for her little friend Johnnie, 
branding the statements of identifying wit- 
nesses as falsehoods, and endeavoring to 
make the court believe that Johnnie Green 
had never been implicated in any robbery ! 

Johnnie Green and David Judkins entered 
pleas of not guilty when, in February, 1928, 
they were given a jury trial. 

However, the jury returned a verdict 
of guilty on two counts of first degree 
robbery in each case. 

Each defendant was sentenced to serve 
from fourteen years to life in San Quen- 
tin. 

Thus did the Law exact its heavy toll 
from flaming youth for a few swift-mov- 
ing weeks of crime and folly ! John Wat- 
nick paid the penalty with his life. Those 
others who defied authority through his 
baleful influence are condemned to spend 
what might well have been the happiest 
and most fruitful years of their allotted 
time within the gray walls of San Quen- 
tin Prison. 



True Detective Mysteries 



123 



What Happened to Leighton Mount? 



(Continued from pane 39) 



at the university had compelled him to 
leave Evanston after his statement at the 
Auberc inquest that there was "no mystery 
about the Mount case" in the minds of 
the students. 

Eventually the majority of students 
trooped down to the Criminal Courts 
building, either voluntarily or in custody, 
and one by one were taken before the 
grand jury. Ensued a battle of wits in 
which the grand jurors and harassed as- 
sistant State's attorneys failed to dis- 
tinguish themselves. 

Invasions and subterfuges were rampant, 
loss of memory appeared to afflict many ; 
others pleaded that they knew nothing 
about the class rush, or had not seen 
Mount participating. One or two frankly 
declared they had pledged themselves at 
the time Mount had disappeared not to 
discuss the case then or later. 

This pledge, they said, was taken at the 
instigation of student leaders who declared 
the affair was hurting the school. 

John Scott defiantly refused to talk on 
the grounds that the oath of his fraternity 
prevented him. His father, President 
Walter Dill Scott, said that supposedly 
credible persons in the very beginning had 
given him information that convinced him 
Mount had run away from home. 

DORIS FUCHS, found at the home of 
a sister, did not again seek to play a 
leading role, but told a somewhat innocu- 
ous story of her friendship with young 
Mount. She became excited and almost 
hysterical when questioned as to the source 
of $1,000 she was said to have sent her 
mother at the time she dropped out of the 
affair a year and a half before. 

Charges and countercharges Hew back 
and forth between the Mount family and 
university officials, and the lie was passed 
promiscuously. 

Out of the welter of conflicting testi- 
mony, however, several facts stood forth 
conspicuously. 

Police records of that night of fight- 
ing, when the young freshman dropped 
out of sight, were altered to minimize the 
violence that had taken place and particu- 
larly that portion which detailed the ex- 
perience of the sophomore, Persinger, who 
had been bound and left tied to piling in 
tin- lake. The altering, it was sworn, was 
ordered by Chief Leggett at the instance 
of Mayor Harry Pearsons of Evanston 
following a conference with President 
Scott. That the original police records 
had not been accurate, and had exaggerated 
the violence, was understood to be the 
reason for this action. 

J. Allen Mills, freshman leader who 
had been so active in the search for Mount, 
had continued keenly interested in the case 
long after everyone else, and had been 
responsible for various reports that Mount 
had been seen here or there about the 
country; reports which he had faithfully 
carried to President Scott until requested 
to desist. 

Abruptly, Mills had left the university. 
It was said he had been cast off by his 
family and had fled to the West after 
trouble over bad checks. 

Convinced that Mills held the key to 



the Mount mystery, the State's at- 
torney began a determined effort to find 
him for questioning. Me was traced to 
Berkeley, California, where he had "hung 
around" the University of California for 
some time, and where he was said to have 
hinted at some grave trouble impending 
over him, and threatened to kill himself. 
Back through the West his trail was fol- 
lowed, only to have it revealed that he 
had returned to Evanston and, disguised 
in a chauffeur's uniform, had driven a 
taxicab for several weeks about the scenes 
where he had played a not unimportant 
part in other days! 

Eventually he was found working under 
a name other than his own in Akron, 
Ohio, and returned to Chicago in custody. 

Mills, before the grand jury, swore he 
knew nothing about the inside of the 
Mount case. Again he explained his in- 
terest by saying that he had worried over 
his "moral responsibility" in the class rush, 
and felt he could do no less than try to 
find what had become of Mount. 

He was released, and returned to Akron. 

Meanwhile, young Fitch had been re- 
turned from Ludington. He now told a 
story to the effect that Mount had been 
despondent for several days before the 
class rush because of a frustrated love af- 
fair with Doris Fuchs, and had threatened 
to commit suicide. He expressed a belief 
that Mount had done so by chopping a hole 
in the flooring of the pier, crawling in 
over the rocks and ending his life with 
poison. And Fitch naively declared that 
in his opinion the force of the lake waves 
had washed the boulders over the body ! 

Loyalty to his dead friend and a de- 
sire not to hurt the Mounts, who had been 
kind to him when he roomed in their 
home, had kept him from telling that story 
before, he declared. 

FITCH strenuously denied being the au- 
thor of an unsigned note sent to Mrs. 
Mount shortly after her son vanished 
which said, in part, that the body of 
Leighton was in the lake not far from his 
home but would not be easily found. 

In an effort to wrest from the youth a 
story that would clear up his many self- 
contradictions, the State's attorney's of- 
fice resorted to a psychological third de- 
gree. 

At 3 o'clock in the morning, Fitch was 
taken to the pier under which Leighton 
Mount's skeleton had been found, and in 
that deserted spot, standing above the hole 
through which obviously the body had been 
introduced under the planking, he was 
subjected to a severe grilling. 

"I know nothing about Leighton's death, 
that is, no actual facts," the boy insisted. 
"To prove it, I'm going down there where 
his bones were found!" 

Then, before he could be stopped, he 
dropped through the hole into the gloomy 
cavern below. A moment later his laugh 
rang out. 

"Give me a match," he called out. "I'd 
like to look around a bit down here. J 'II 
sleep down here all night, if you wish! 
It doesn't bother me a bit — and it would 
if I knew the secret of Mount's death !" 

"You're the most brazen young man I've 




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124 



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ever met," said John Sbarbaro, an as- 
sistant State's attorney, "and I believe yon 
are overplaying a part to conceal your 
real thoughts. Come up out of there !" 

FITCH came, chuckling. His amuse- 
ment had not subsided when a short 
time later he was ushered into the under- 
taking establishment where the bones bad 
been taken and they were set before him 
in a basket. 

Fitch did not falter. He rattled the 
bones in the basket, picked out two of the 
largest and swung them about his head, 
Indian club fashion; then took the skull of 
his one-time friend, poked a finger through 
an eye-socket, and twirled it about his 
hand ! 

The horrified prosecutors hastily took 
him away. 

Except for one other brief appearance 
before the grand jury, at which he told 
nothing new, Fitch then faded from the 
picture of the Mount investigation. 

With him went the grand jury's last 



hope of solving the mystery of how 
Leighton Mount came to his death. [( 
doggedly continued its investigation, and 
learned exactly nothing that might shed 
light upon the case until its term of ser- 
vice expired by law. 

The final report of that grand jury 
consisted, in effect, of a confession that 
it had found itself so confused by the 
widely divergent testimony of the wit- 
nesses who faced it. so balked by an appar- 
ent conspiracy of silence that extended 
higher than the university students alone, 
that it could offer no suggestions except 
that all its work be cast into the discard 
and an entirely new investigation be made. 

That suggestion was not followed. I lie 
books of the death of Leighton Mount 
were closed, not to be reopened unless some 
day someone who knows the key that will 
unlock the truth chooses to tell, and sup- 
plies the evidence to back it up. 

Incidentally, a reward of $10,000 for 
such evidence, offered by Northwestern 
University, never has been withdrawn. 



The Death Secret of Lovers' Dell 



{Continued from page 12) 



tive now started to make a search of the 
surrounding country to find the spot from 
which the toad'stools had originally come. 
Undoubtedly, some vicious person had first 
picked them in the woods and had then 
transplanted them to the Szenzi mushroom 
beds. So far, however, the detective had 
not allowed his suspicions to crystallize. 

Within a few days, he obtained better 
results than even he had expected. Not 
half a mile from the Szenzi home was a 
small wood, known as the Lovers' Dell, 
from the popularity of its dusky shelter 
among those who sought to shield their 
embraces from the public gaze. Scattered 
throughout this shady spot were any num- 
ber of toadstools identical with those used 
in the chicken stew, and with those found 
by the detective in the mushroom bed in 
the Szenzi cellar. 

An old peasant woman was gathering 
wood in the Dell at the time the detective 
made his visit there, and he thought it 
would do no harm to question her about 
the persons who came there. The woman 
was quite willing to chat, and the detective 
gently led the conversation around to the 
Szenzi family. Did she know any of them? 
And had she seen anyone of the household 
in the Dell recently? 

The old lady was a gold mine of infor- 
mation. Yes! She had occasionally seen 
Frederick Szenzi in these woods. With 
whom? Hadn't he heard? queried the 
peasant woman. With that good-looking 
red-headed servant-girl of theirs — Pauline ! 
Frederick was crazy about her, wanted to 
marry her, so they said. But the uncle 
had put his foot down ! For two years 
Frederick had been trying to persuade the 
old man to let him marry the girl but 
the uncle had threatened to disinherit him 
if he did. The uncle wanted him to marry 
some rich girl with a dot. Maybe then, 
when he, the uncle died, he would leave 
Frederick his gardens, too. 

But Frederick, though he had not 
broken with his uncle, had not given in. 
He and Pauline, outwardly casual, had con- 
tinued to meet in the woods. Everyone 
was expecting to hear they were going to 



be married now that no obstacles existed. 

The detective, satisfied with the Jesuit of 
his visit to the Dell, bade the old lady a 
courteous farewell, and hastened back to 
the house. From the beginning, he had 
suspected the two who had survived that 
fatal Sunday dinner. But, before his talk 
with the old lady, he bad not been able to 
find a motive. Now, he reasoned, Fred- 
erick might have wanted to get rid of his 
uncle in order to inherit the land, while 
Pauline, hopeless of ever securing the 
uncle's permission to marry Frederick, had 
decided to wipe out the entire family for 
Frederick's sake! Perhaps the two had 
worked together. Or, perhaps, one of 
them, without the consent or knowledge of 
the other, had plotted and planned the 
poisoned dinner. 

AT first, he was inclined to suspect 
Pauline of being the guilty person. On 
Sunday morning she had gone to the cellar 
and picked the mushrooms for the dinner. 
She had also cooked it. Who could have 
had a better opportunity to drop a lew 
toadstools in the pot? 

But, the detective had to admit, since it 
was so easy for the girl to mix the toad- 
stools with the mushrooms in the kitchen, 
why should she have gone to all the trouble 
of planting the toadstools in the mush- 
room bed? If the girl was guilty, it was 
a devilish clever thing to do. For the fact 
that the toadstools were in the mushroom 
bed made it seem as if the murderer had 
no other way of getting them into the 
family dinner. But Pauline would not 
have impressed her most ardent admirer 
with her brains, and it seemed highly im- 
probable that she could have thought out 
such a scheme. Therefore, between the 
two, it seemed more likely that Frederick 
was guilty. 

Back the detective went to the mush- 
room beds, still undecided whom to accuse. 
He did not want to arouse any suspicion 
of his intentions until he had enough evi- 
dence to justify his accusation. And, for 
the time being, he decided to make an even 
more careful study of the mushroom beds, 



True Detective Mysteries 



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while he furtively studied the actions of 
the two suspected persons. 

To the search-light which he always car- 
ried, the detective had added a magnifying^ 
glass. Would the soft, heavily manured 
earth of the mushroom beds decide which 
of the two was guilty, Frederick or 
Pauline? 

Down on his knees, with the searchlight 
and the magnifying-glass exposing every 
inch of the earth to his keen eyes, the de- 
tective scanned the soft mounds in which 
the mushrooms were embedded. Luck was 
with him! At the very first bed he ex- 
amined, he found three short hairs of a 
brilliant auburn. Hairs about five inches 
long must come from a woman's head, he 
decided, and, to clinch his suspicions of 
Pauline, he recognized immediately that 
the hairs he had found in the mushroom 
bed were the same hue as Pauline's wavy 
locks. 

But there was still the question of tex- 
ture to be settled. 

That evening, while Pauline was prepar- 
ing supper in the kitchen, the detective 
crept up to the attic where the girl slept. 
As was the custom in the days when 
switches, rats and curls were considered a 
necessary part of every young woman's 
head-dress, Pauline was saving her comb- 
ings in a box. It took but a minute to 
locate the box, open it, and compare its 
contents with the three short hairs found 
in the mushroom bed. 

Much to his surprise and disappointment, 
the detective found that, though the hairs 
were the same color, they were of an en- 
tirely different texture! Pauline's hair was 
soft and silky; the hairs he had found in 
the cellar were coarse and bristly. There 
was no doubt that they did not come from 
Pauline's head. 

THE detective began all over again. To 
whom did the red hairs belong? Fred- 
erick's hair was brown. After cautious 
questioning he had learned that none of 
the Szenzi family had had red hair. So 
far, the red hairs had simply led him up 
a blind alley! 

But he was still to learn more from the 
mushroom bed. On his next visit, he no- 
. ticed, in the earth between the beds, two 
sets of foot-prints. One set was, evidently, 
the foot-prints of a woman. Probably 
Pauline's when she came down that Sun- 
day. The other foot-prints were those of 
a man. The detective took care not to 
confuse his own footsteps with the latter. 
For, since lie had been the only person 
down there since the fatal dinner, those 
prints might belong to the guilty person. 

Upstairs again, it was not difficult for 
him to secure a pair of shoes belonging to 
Frederick. As an afterthought, he also 
took along a pair of old Szenzi's. Once 
again, however, the detective was up 
against a dead wall. Neither pair fitted 
into the masculine foot-prints ! 

But the mushroom bed was yet to give 
up still more clues ! The foot-prints were 
not the only marks the stranger had left. 
Assuming that he had stuck the poisonous 
fungi in the bed, he must have knelt down 
on the earth to do so. The detective's 
hunch was correct. He discovered that, 
a short distance from every pair of foot- 
prints, were two hollows in the earth. 
These, undoubtedly, had been made by the 
man's knees. And. judging from the space 
between foot and knee-prints, the detective 




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deduced that the stranger was below me- 
dium height. 

Another curious sign marked the earth 
beyond the knee-prints. The earth looked 
scratched, as if a stiff brush had touched it. 
This puzzled the detective, until, on this 
surface itself, he found the answer! There 
were more auburn hairs. Evidently, the 
stranger had bent bis head very low to 
place the toadstools. Probably he was 
near-sighted. His beard had crushed the 
earth, and a few hairs had fallen. 

The detective returned to the kitchen 
where he found Pauline and Frederick 
silting. He sat down quietly and started 
to smoke. He soon led the conversation 
around to the topic of the old friends of 
the Szenzis. His interest centered on the 
men who were on visiting terms with the 
family. Then he asked if, among them, 
there was one of medium height, near- 
sighted, and with a red beard. 

Both young people laughed. The de- 
scription fitted Pauline's father exactly. 
But he had never called on old Szenzi. 
He was a rat-catcher and the circles 
of rat-catchers and farmers did not meet 
socially. 

The detective said nothing. But, the 
next morning, he dropped in on Frensci, 
and took him to Headquarters. At first, 
Frensci denied knowing anything more 
about the deaths of the Szenzis than what 
his daughter had told him. But, after two 
hours questioning, he broke down. 

He knew that Frederick wanted to marry 
his daughter and that his uncle, Hcrr 
Szenzi, objected. If the uncle and the rest 
of his family were out of the way, Fred- 
crick would inherit the property and be 
free to marry Pauline. Incidentally, he 



would be in a position to help his poor 
father-in-law 1 

Frensci often used the deadly fungi in 
powdered form to kill rats. So he knew 
what would happen to anyone who ate 
them. He bad crept to the Szenzi farm, 
and, unknown to anyone, had slipped into 
the cellar on Saturday night. It had taken 
but a few minutes to plant his toadstools, 
after which he had silently stolen away. 

That neither Frederick nor Pauline had 
died of the poison was due solely to chance. 
Possibly, it was because they were both 
so much in love, and their appetites were 
less robust than those of the others. But 
Pauline's father had assumed, anyway, 
that they would escape ! Frederick, he 
thought, was going away for the week-end. 
And, as for his daughter, his faith in an 
old superstition had convinced him that 
she would not die! 

A VIRGIN, he told the police, was im- 
mune to any poison that grew in the 
fields. It was an infallible test. And, so 
sure was he of his daughter's maidenly 
reserve, that no matter what quantity of 
the poisonous fungi she might eat, it could 
not harm her! 

And, doubtless, he was more than ever 
convinced of the truth of this superstition — 
despite the fact that Szenzi's three daugh- 
ters had died! 

As far as the detective was concerned, 
the case was ended when Frensci confessed. 
But there is a postscript in the archives 
where all matrimonial data is kept, to the 
effect that Pauline and Frederick, despite 
the poisoned dish of mushrooms that • 
crossed their path, did not hesitate to take 
the usual chances of married life together. 



The "Agent" from Hong Kong 



{Continued from page 10) 



Some hours later I went below, and un- 
locking my cabin, was amazed to see my 
laundry portmanteau lying open in my 
berth with the white shirts and uniforms 
glinting frostily in the electric light. And 
down on the floor was another port- 
manteau, a dead replica, even to the half- . 
obliterated labels. It was also lying half 
open, displaying laundry. Evidently I had 
been given someone else's laundry as well 
as my own. I examined it for the marks, 
and then suddenly sat down. 

Under the laundry were packed 150 tins 
of opium, worth in Hong Kong about 
$500, but which, by the simple process of 
being conveyed to Manila and buried in the 
sand of Cavite, soared up to the value of 
$5,000. 

TT was packed in little tins, each of which 
1 was four inches by two and a half — 
a shape which lends itself to concealment. 
My first thought was to stow it ; for it 
must be concealed where, if it was found, 
I could deny all interest in it. There was 
not much danger of detection while at sea, 
so I kept it locked up in my cabin till Hear- 
ing Manila, when I placed it in one of the 
portmanteaux, with a bogus name on it, 
and shoved the whole thing into a store- 
room used for luggage wanted on the voy- 
age, where it would lie till I saw an op- 
portunity to land it. 

It was evening when we steamed into 
Manila Bay, where a Customs officer 



immediately came aboard. The ship was 
not searched, but everybody and everything 
that went ashore was. 

About ten o'clock, I got out my skiff, 
went out with a small net, and returned two 
hours later with the fixed intention of hid- 
ing the stuff about an hour before mid- 
night. The harbor then seemed fairly 
clear of police and Customs launches. I 
got the stuff into my cabin, hung it out 
of the port in a net, and launched the ski IT 
on the other side, asking the Customs offi- 
cer on deck to come for a row and a 
smoke. 

He seemed slightly interested in marine 
zoology, but really interested in the bottle 
that lay beside him. In about half an 
hour that bottle was empty, and he ex- 
pressed a desire to return on board. I 
protested that I had found nothing; but 
he said duty called. So, I put him on 
board, glided round, and, lowering the stuff 
into the skiff, skimmed away towards 
Cavite, where I arrived without seeing a 
soul. I buried the cargo easily enough and 
started back to the ship, where to the 
Customs officer I cursed my bad luck, but 
promised to show him something more in- 
teresting the next evening. 

I wondered how they got on with that 
opium ! Had the right people got it ? 

All doubts were set aside the afternoon 
we were leaving, when I opened my laun- 
dry and found my commission pinned in 
crisp bills to the inside of one of my shirts! 



True Detective Mysteries 



127 



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, , , — — VISlDte Dy Pelglsl „ or i d . 'uitberto. practically unobtain. 
able except at en exorbitant price, have et tut eueeeeded ia producing this remarkable 
LUMINOUS PAINT, which, applied to the ejrtaeenf anvertiHe, T VS m 9 l2S&2tS tt 
rSsMhel it perfectly visible m the dark. THE DARKER THE NIGHT, THE MORE BRIL- 
LIANT IT SHINES. Quite simple to ues. Anyone— you OM do it. A Uttls MM to 
of your watch or clock will enable you to toll tbs time by night. Yoo can eoat the push but. 
tons or switch plates of your electrio lights, match boxes, end innumerable other articles; 
make your owo Luminous Crucifixes. Luminous Rosaries, etc. Small hOHMi Price 25c l.arcet 
50e end »1 postpaid, JOHNSON SMITH * CO. Dept. 923 RACINE. WIS. 




CIGARETTE 
MAKER 

Roll your own and 
money. Better end quicker; 
saves more then bell. Use 
your favorite brand of. tobao* 
oo. Neat, useful, heady. 
Pocket site, weighs '■> os. 
Made entirety of metal, 
nirkel plated. 25c, 3 for 65c 
postpaid anywhere, 



NOVELTY BADGES 



GOOD LUCK RING 



Very striking, Quaint and 
uncommon. silver finish; 
skull end eroeebonea deaien, 
two brilliant, fieeliing come 
sparkle out o( the eyes. Baid to 
bring good luck.Only 2Se ppeL 




Riuin* Ptrmil 10* Oaritr Jntpitfr 10a 

Two very novel metal bad tea, nickel 
plated, that you can wear. giving you fun 
out of ell proportion to their trifling cost. 
IOe ( each badge, 3 for 25c, or 75c per 
dei. p ostpa id an ywh ere. 



MIDGET BIBLE 




Make good money 



... 'PiliCE IsV eftrV. 9 for atOe. 12 for 
SI. 35. 100 for $7.50. Also obUinable id 
Leather binding, with void edges. Price SO* 
each. 3 for SI. 25, S4.SO per dot. Magnl* 
lying Gleaa for use with Midtet llihla. 15c 



STAGE 
MONEY 



Withabuncb 
of theaebills, 
it la easy tor 
each pcreon 
ot limited 
means to 
appear 

§rosperoua 
y flaahlDft 
a roll of 
these bills 
t the 
, roper 
time and peeling oft a genuine bill 
or two from the outside ot the roll, 
tho effect created will be found to 
be all that can be desired. Prices, 
postpaid: 40 Bills 20c, 120 for 50c, 
or $3.50 thousand postpaid. 




MAGIC NOSE FLUTE 

i The Mario Now Flute, or Hu- 

iv^^H manntone, ia e uniaue and 
tViSBr oov-X musical instrument that 
F! , "»* T ^ ia pluved with noes end mouth 
oombmed. There is just a 
little knack in playing 
It which, when once ao- 
j Quired after a little prac* 
[ties, will enable you to 
prodooe eery tweet 
music thet aomewhnt 
resembles e flute. There 
is no fingering, and once you have mastered 
it tou can play all kinds of music with facility 
and nase Wnen playi>d as an accompaniment 
ta a mano or any other musical instrument, 
the effect is as charming M it ia aurprising. 



Exploding Cigarettes 

JUST LIKE ORDINARY CIG- 
ARETTES. BUT SUCH 
REAL STARTLERS I The 

box containe ten genuine cig. 
arettee of excellent quality. 
They appear so reel, but 
when each ciierett* ia about 
one-third amoked, the victim 
gets a very great surprise as 

- - ifc r ' 




SURPRISE MATCHES 

More fun than 
fltrhtlng with your 
wife. Look Just 
like ordinary 
matches. Put up 
In boxes Just like reg- 
ular Safety Matches. 
As the victim tries „ 
light one he geta quite a surprise. 
PlICB.lOfi oar bp, 3 ohm lor 25c. 12 lor 75 csnji. 

INVISIBLE INK 

The most con- 
fidential messages 
can be written with 
this ink. for the 

writing makes no mark. 

Cannot be seen unless you 
know the secret. luvahtablo ( 
for many reasons. Keep - 
your postals and other private 
eway from pry- 
ing eyee. *Great fun for play* 
ing practical jokes. 

Only 15c ■ Bottle; 3 for 40c. 

JOHNSON SMITH & CO. 

Dept. 923 




Wonderful A- Hay Tube 

TA wonderful little 
(instrument pro- 
"Mucins optical 
illusions both 
surprising and 
. *startllnK. With it 

yoo can see wbat ia apparently tbe bones of 
your fingers, the Is ad in e leed pencil, the in- 
terior opening io • pipe stem, and many other 
eiuuler illusions. A mystery that no one hag 
been able to satisfactorily explain. Pri--s 10e, 
3 fot25c, 1dmen7Sc. Johnson Smith a Co, 




BLANK CARTRIDGE PISTOL 

'-' BurgUm.Tramvti^ADoa* Special OffeS 



DISSOLVING VIEWS 



I Hlank Cartridge Plst<g 




Well 

effective. 

•lied on leteet 
type of Revolver; 
appearance aloae 
enough to scare • 
burglar.When loads 
maybe as effee"' 

btalm 

... Specie ...... 

order offer: 1 Superior equality Blank Cartridge Pis. 1 

•ol. 100 Hlank Cartridgea. and our "" " 1 

De Log* Catalog of latest noveltiee 
$1.50. Shipped by Express onl 1 

parcel poet. Extra Blank Cartric 

Special Holster (Cowboy Typ«) for pistol 50c. No CO. D. shipments. 
JOHNSON SMITH & COMPANY. Dept. 923s RACINE, WIS. 

YHrou/Ybur Voice 

Into a trunk, under the bed or 
anywhere. Lotsof fun fooling the 
teacher, policeman or friends, 

The VENTRILO 

a little instrument, fits in 
themouthoutof sight, used 
with above for Bird Calls. 
:. Anyone can use it. Never faits. 
A 16-Page Course on ALL FOR, 
Ventriloquism and inp.-t. 
theVentrilo lUWHHl 




Yoo may have a 
lotof fun with thia 
little peep -show. 
Aregular startler. 
Made entirely of 
metal, bavin* a 



V UK' 





10c 



Every Boy His Own Toy Maker 

Greatest boys' book 
written. Tells how to 
make a Pinhole Cam- 
efa, a Canoe, model 
Railroad, a Telephone, 
Boomerang, Telegraph 
1 nstrumcnt. Box Ki tc. 
Talking Machine, 
Microscope, Electric Motor, Electric 
Door Bell, Water Wheel. I'uddlc 
Raft, a pair of Skis, a Dor Sled, 
Bird House, Rabbit Yard. etc. 64 
pages. 150 illustrations. PRICE, 
1 0c postpaid; 3 for 25c. 

Serpent's Eggs 

Bog eonteins 13 eggs. When 
lit with a match, each one 
gradually batches itself into a 
snake several 
feet long, which 
curls and twists 
about in a most 
life-like manner. 
Price per boa. lot poetpald, 3 for 25c 




The "Little Giant" Typewriter 

A First Class Writing 
Machine For $1.50 

A perfect little typewriter for $1.50. 
Titers ire ttioiiiniids of peisons who 
would like to use a typewriter but 
whose needs and business do not war- 
rant the expense attached (o the pur- 
HiiLse and use of a fifty or ecveniy-fiTa 
dollar rn^ichine. To such persons wa 
iDiilidently recommend our Little 
• iiant. Itte etrongly made, but simple 
in construction, so that anyone can 
quickly learn to operate it, and write 
as rapidly as they would with pen 
and ink. The letters of the alphaWt 
most frequently used are so grouped as to enable one to write rapidly, the numernle 
I to 10, and tho punctuation marks being together. With this machine you can send 
your oatt girl typewritten lo»e letters, address envelopes, make out bills, and doalmocl 
any Itind of work not requiring a large, eipensiye machine. With each typewriter 




s tube of ink and 



Scientists 
unable to 




>le 



plete 91.50 by malt poatpeid to any addreaa fn the world. 



MEXICAN JUMPING BEANS 



explanation for what purpose nature created 
these curious Jumping Beam. They arc found 
growing on small trees in the high mountain- 
ous regions of Mexico. The Beans Wiggle, 
Move, Jump, Flop Over, etc. It is amazing 
to see them keep up this endless activity. Send 
s. Three Sample Beam sent for 
144) for $7.50 Poatpaid. 

JOHNS ON SMITH & CO., Dept. 923, RACINE, WIS. 

AOs Lena Edition at our new 1929 CATALOG mailed en receipt el 23c. 
Handsome binding. Bluer and better than ewer. Only book of Ita kind In 
, Nearly GOO pages ot all the lateal trleka In magic, the newest 



ior a iexv ot these great cui 
ic, 12 for 75c, or One C 





LOOK 



35c LOOK INSTRUMENT 




. _ .jf, a Biirniiix (.ens, 
Reading <;ia->*. a Tele- 
scope, n ('ompnm, a Pocket 
hlirror. anda Laryngoscope — for *samiii- 
" throat. It is worth all 
_ the eye. holds Hut and 
Only 35c or 3 for SX.OO. 



Watch Charm 
Pistol 



$1.75 




Eiaet reprodue- 



aof a 



7 area 
I'.KU. BLANK 
CARTRIDGES 
of miniature 
Illustration . 
actual site. IH 
inches long, with 
ring at and for 
attaching to 
watch chain 

Loads like a regular pistol, Pull tbe trigger and it goes off with aloud Hang. 
Pistol is break open type; illustration sliows position for loading. Made 
entirely of high grade steel, nickel plated, octagon barrel, handsomely 
engraved handles, complete in bog with cleaning rod. PRICE S1.75. 
Also futntshed With pearl handles. $2.50. BLANK CARTRIDGES, 50c 
per b og of 25. JOHNSON SMITH A CO.. Oept, ?23, RACINE, WIS. 



MICROPHONE TRANSMITTER BUTTON 




Lover'sKnotor Friendship Ring 

Made of 4 strands 
of genuine UK gold 
filled wire, woven in- 
to the True Lover's 
Knot, symbolic of 
love or friendship. 
Very pretty, yet not 
showy. Each ring is 
madebyhandbygold 
wireexpert. Itlooks 
good and it is good. 

Price soc Postpaid 
Johnson Smith & Co. 




Female 



Male 




Hold tbe MAGIC INDICATOR over a man's hand, 
instantly it moves in a straight line, backward and 

forward. Hold it over a woman's hand and it de- 
scribes a complete and continuous circle. The same 
action can be obtained over ale ttor written by amen 
or woman, etc. Itia fascinating: batllinir. We have 
never been able to future out how it'e done, but we 
have never seen it fail. Many novel and entertain- 
ing feata may be performed with the Sex Indicator. 
For example, similar rnaults can bo obtained with 
animals, cata, doirs, rabbits, over birds, chickens, 
canaries, etc. Also used to predetermine the eex or 
chickens and birds, etc. In fact it is nold aa a pat- 
-nf.-d tester in Europe. Price 25c, or ■ 3 for 
65c, postaRO prepaid. JOHNSON SMITH & CO. 



BABY 
TANK 




By drawing theTanlc backward, either with tho hand 
or ovur the floor or table and then placing it down 
it will crawl along, overcoming all obstacles, in the 
samelif e-liko mann „-r an the largerTank that proved 
so deadly in the great war, Wbat makes it go fa 
somewhat of a mystery, for there is no mechanism 
to wind up as is usually understood with mechanical 
toys, yetthis tank will keep plodding nlong ten times 
longer than the ordinary run of toys. It will perform 
dozens of tho most wonderful stunts, 25c prepaid, 



$1.00 

You can easily make • tighly sensitive detecto- 

rfaone by using this Transmitter Button to collect 
be sound waves. You can build your own outfit 
without buying expensive equipment. It is simple 
and inexpensive, Vou ran install an outfit in your 
homo and hear conversations beinx held all over the 
house. You can connect up different rooms of a 
hotel. This outfit was used by secret service 
operatives during the war. It is being ueed on the 
Btage. It ia ultrasensitive and is the greatest in- 
vention in micro-phones. You ean mount the 
button almost anywhere— card hoard boxes, stove 
pip-i, stiff calendars, on the wall behind a picture 

auspecting it. You can listen in on conversations 
In another room. A deaf person in the audience 
can hear the speaker. Connected to phonograph, 
piano or other musical instrument, music can b< 
heard hundrede of feet away. Button may be used to renew telephone 
transmitters: often makes an old line " talk up" w,hen nothing else will. Tbe 
ideal microphone for radio use; carries heavy current and is extremely sens!* 
tive. Amplifies radio signals. Countless other similar uses will suggest 
themselves. Experimented find the button useful for hundreds of expert* 
menta along the lines of telephones, amplifiers, loud speakers, etc. Maay 
fascinating stunts may be devised, such aa holding the button against the 
throat or chest to reproduce speech without sound waves. PRICE $1.00. 
JOHNSON SMITH & CO., DEPT. 923 s RACINE* WIS. 




MAGICIAN'S BOX OF TRICKS 

Apparatus and Directions for a Number of Mys- 
terious Tricks, Enough for 
an Entire Evening's £|00 
Entertainment ■ ■ • **l I 

ge/* Anyone Can Do Thorn 

It Is great fuo mystifying your 
friends. Get this Conjurer's Cabi- 
net. and you will be tbe cleverest 
fellow in your district. It eontaing 
the apparatus for ten first-class 
tricks, including The MAGIC 
BALL AND VASE TRICK (a 
wooden ball is placcdiuside. and upon 
replacing the lid baa disappeared 
and is found in someone else's pork- 
et);ThellINDOOniICKCAItUS 
(can be made to change completely 
so teas than five times); DI& 
APPEARING CUIN BOX (a coin, placed io the wooden bog, eanisfiee 
■sHuMhtniesinto a coin of another denomination); The GLASS COB- 
LET 1 RICK (a com ia dropped into a gl&js of water and when tbe water is 
" 1 H!i e A . ,, L th, „ c ', mt V h *" * l »»'- ,1 ' , -d and is found somewhere else) ; tboRIBIiON 
■ACTOR Y f ROM THE MOUTU TRICK (a seemingly endless 




¥sJ^te 3 / l "i™ eW If * b '* l ? m ' ka U la » do-n); the GREAT HAT AND DICE 
TRICK (a largo dice is placed on top of a hat, disappears, and is found under- 
?>1*A h v^,\?? t^'ehed the hat), and last, but not least, the GREAT 

PHANTOM CARD THICK, or two from five leaves nothing. Full in- 
structions are sent for performing each trick. In addition to the above, a 
number of other feats and illusions are fullyexplained for which you can easily 
make or procure tbe necessary apparatus. Price complete SI.OO postpaid 




ITCHING Powder 



This is another Rood prac- 
tical joke! the intenne dia< 
comfituro of your victims t< 
everyone^but themselves ft 
thorotiffhly enjoyable. All 
that ia necesnary to start the 
ball rolling is to deposit a lit- 
tie of the powder on a per- 
son's hand and the powder 
can be relied upon to do the 
rest. The resnlt Is a vi«orous scratch, then some 



more scratch, and still some 
for 2Sc or 75c per d 
Johnson Smlth&Co. 



mioru. lOcbox, 3boxes 
dozen. SbioDed by Express 
Dept. 923 f Racine, Wis 



ANARCHIST BOMBS 

Oneof theae rIbss vials dropped 
In a room full of peoplo will causs 
more constfrnationthanaliwibur- 
ftercheeae. Thoanu l! rntirelydis- 
nppeiir* in a short time. 10c a 
Box, 3 Boxes for 25c or7Scper 
dozen. Shipped by Kxpreis. 
JOHNSON SMITH & COM PAN Y 



SNEEZING POWDER 




j 

band and b' 
tbe air, and< 



.ck of you 
blow If Int 



i : . ■-: to bear their re- 

— — ; marks, as they never 

auapec t the real sonrce. but think they have caught 
it one from another. Between the laughing and 
sneering you yourself will ho having the time of your 
life. For pordVs, political meeting*, ear ride*, or 
anyplace at all where there ia agathering of peopl e, 
it is the greatest joke out. Price 10c, 3 for 25c, 
75c per dozen. Shipped by Express. 
Jo hnson Smith & Co., Dept. 923 , Racine. Wri 




COMICAL 

MOTTO RINGS 

Lotsof harmless fun and 
amusement wearing these 
rin^s. Made in platinoid 
finish (to resemble plat' 
nam), with wording o. 
■ \ as illustrated 



Rubber Chewing 

Gum m» 

package of 
chewing gum 
and looks so , 
real that it / 

^mSSm^m 1 . S/or SSc Postpaid 

suspects it is not genalne until tbey start to chew 
it. There's a world of fan in this rubber ch< 




ADDRESS ORDERS FOR ALL GOODS ON THIS PAGE TO 

JOHNSON SMITH & CO. D £ T - Racine, Wis. 



128 



True Detective Mysteries 






list Men Suffer after 40? 



Must men approaching old age be cheated out of health and sleep by 
getting up five to ten times at night? Must men past a certain middle 
age be handicapped by embarrassing health faults — constantly 
harassed by foot and leg pains — sciatica-chronic constipation? 



FREE. 




Amazing New Facts About Old Age 



THIS frankly written book tells of a new 
kind of hygiene that stimulates the vital 
prostate gland in a new, natural way that has 
never before been duplicated. It is the recent 
discovery of a prominent American scientist, 
member of four national scientific societies. It 
has been tested by more than 50,000 men. It 
is ustd and endorsed by physicians, osteopaths, 
and great sanitariums. A Xew York physi- 
cian. LaVerne II. Barber, says 

"Your prostatic treatment is a 
hundred years ahead of modern 
medicine— a thousand years ahead 
of the surgeon's knife!" 

The importance of this discovery for millions 
of men past 40 can hardly be over estimated. 
Two out of three men past middle age — and 
many much younger — have hypertrophy of the 
prostate gland, according to scientific men. 
You may not know you have this trouble. No 
pain is involved when this gland begins to slow 
up. You may think it is the natural and in- 
evitable accompaniment of approaching age. 
But any competent medical authority will tell 
you that a dull, swollen prostate gland is fre- 
quently the direct cause of bladder and kidney 
trouble, pains in the feet, back and legs, 
chronic constipation, sciatica, dizziness, etc. 

Other common indications of prostate gland 
failure are loss of vitality, a feeling of debility, 
with life gone, dull, drab, gray. 

Now it is possible to get relief, in many cases, 
almost overnight! 

Amazing Results 

This new home hygiene usually "Picks you 
np" immediately. Martin H. Miller of 
Reedley, California, says, "I tell my wife I am 
getting my second youth." It is pleasant and 



easy to use, and as harmless as washing your 
face. Results reported in thousands of cases 
have been nothing short of amazing. These 
few letters are typical of an astounding mass of 
testimony: 

Up 6 to 8 Times a Night 

"l have used the Electro Thermal Treat- 
ment for prostate Aland trouble for four 
months. When I began treatment, i 
had to get up six to eight times every 
night. My condition is now normal and 
has been for three months." 

L. Strayer, Pittsburgh, Pa. 

Immediate Relief 

**I would not have believed it possible 
that one could be benefited so quickly. 
The cramps, aches and pains, muscular 
stiffness and the terrible pains in the 
hips at night are gone. The drum-like 
fullness of the abdomen is materially 
lessened. I am in my 73rd year." 

F. W. Boulton, Spencer, Mass. 

Sufferer For Many Years 

"I was a sufferer for many years . . . 
troubled with severe pains in the arms, 
legs and muscles of the back. After 
four months' use, my pains disappeared. 
Nearly two years have passed, with no re- 
turn of my worst trouble. 
"I recently took out additional life in- 
surance and during the physical ex- 
amination, I requested the physician to 
give my prostate gland the once-over, 
which he found in normal condition." 

F. E. Snider, Chicago, 111. 

Don't let prostate troubles run on. Don't 
wait another day. Already more than 50,000 
men have used this new home hygiene. Al- 



ready physicians and osteopaths in every part 
of the country use and endorse it. The fame 
of this new treatment is rapidly spreading 
around the world. Hundreds of letters pour 
in from every state and many foreign countries. 

Scientist's Book 
FREE 

If you have any of these common sy mptoms, 
send today for this frankly written book. 
Sec how this treatment often restores men to 
buoyant health and strength. Here are facts 
of vital importance to every man, whether 40 or 
80. Sec if they apply to you. For a free copy 
of this book simply send the blank below to 

The Electro Thermal Company 

8123 Morris Ave. Steubenville, Ohio 



If you live West of the Rockies, address The Electro 
Thermal Co, 303 Van Nil)-; Building. Dept. 81-Z. 
I-os Angeles. Calif. In Canada, address The Electro 
Thermal Co.. Desk 8t-Z. 53 Yonge St.. 
Toronto, Ont.. 



W. J. KIRK, President, 
8123 Morris Ave., 
Steubenville, Ohio 

Please mail at once a FREE copy of the booklet 
"Why Many Men Arc Old At 40" and all details 
about the new hygiene. 1 am not obligated in any 
way. 



Name . 



AdJress . 



' City. 

L__. 



.State 





INEXPERIENCED— MAKE 
$23.00 FIRST 5 HOURS 
I have had very little setting 
experience but sold, in less than 
five hours yesterday. 16 can open- 
ers and 16 sharpeners. They are 
SOME machines! — A. Gray, Md. 



$5.00 HIS FIRST HOUR 

Received Speedo outfit April 1st. 
Left the house after supper at 6:30 P. 
M. Returned iust one hour later with 
six orders. Speedos are a necessity in 
every home— W. W. Marshall. 111. 




MAKES $18.00 FIRST DAY 

Received my first 24 Speedos 
yesterday; the entire lot is 
now delivered and more sold 
In all my years of selling 
I never saw anything 
that met with such 
universal approval. 
— W. R. Duncan, 
Montana. 






Let These Twin ^| 
Inventions Hand You ^ 

Double Profits J5 roll HOUR! 




WORKS LIKE A CHARM 

Just insert can in holder 
and turn crank. Top is cut 
completely out inside the 
rim of can. Juices can't 
spill out. So simple a child 
can operate with perfect 
safety. 




FOOD POURS RIGHT 
OUT 

No fuss or muss. All food 
pours right out of can with- 
out scraping or "spooning." 
Even foods frozen in the can 
slip out easily. 




Men, here'* a proposition that's amazingly simple. Yet the 
profit possibilities are nothing short of startling! For now, an 
old, well-known manufacturer offers you direct, TWO unique, 
patented inventions. Items used every day in every home. Vet 
so revolutionary that they positively sell on sight! So just read 
the facts below^ Then mail coupon for FREE OUTFIT and 
FREE TEST 



VERY man who has cut hia eye teeth in 
.1— / the selling game knows this: The big 
clean-ups are always made by men who get 
in on the ground floor with something new 
and sensational. Think, then, what a doubly 
sensational chance literally to coin money 
is now yours! For here are offered you 
two unique patented devices — pronounced 
by experts everywhere to be absolutely rev- 
olutionary — approved by Good Housekeep- 
ing Institute, Modern Priscilla. etc. — and 
real necessities in every home in the land. 
In your wildest dreams, could you ever con- 
jure up such an amazing opportunity for 
quick, easy profits? 

A Real Million-Dollar Can Opener 



NO JAGGED EDGES 

Speedo cuts the top out, 
smooth, slick, and clean. 
Ends forever the danger of 
infection from fingers cut on 
jagged tin edges. 



_ little automatic can opening 
that opens any can. round, square 
or oval, simply at the turn of a crank. 
Cuts the entire top out, slick, smooth and 
clean No more stabbing and hacking with 
old-style can openers. No more fingers cut 
and infected on jagged tin-can edges. For 
Speedo holds the can — strips the top out — 
flips up the lid — all in a couple of seconds! 
And men, it's inexpensive! No wonder women 
simply go wild over it. And no wonder 4 
out of 5 buy on a 10-second demonstration! 

The "Magic Groove" Sharpener 

Women never saw anything even remotely 
like this other "twin" invention, the Speedo 
sharpener. Just demonstrate the "magic 
groove" principle and watch their eyes pop 
open with amazement. Now anyone can put 
a keen, smooth edge on everything that cuts. 
Even scissors are ground to a perfect cut- 

CENTRAL STATES 
MANUFACTURING CO. 

Dept. P-2633, 4500 Mary Ave., St. Louis, Mo. 



ting bevel ! Every woman sees instantly 
that here is an end to the waste and drud- 
gery of dull knives and tools. That's why 
agents sometimes report as much as $10 
and $12 in a single hour with Speedo 
sharpener alone I 

Exclusive Territories — 

Generous Co-operation 

This company has been in business over 20 
years. Speedos are made entirely in our own 
big factories, under exclusive patents. Each 
item is backed by a printed guarantee of 5 
years perfect service. We give you absolute 
protection in exclusive territory. Over 100% 
profit! We train you from A to Z. and sup- 
ply you with a complete selling outfit FREE. 

Mail the Coupon TODAY 

Any ambitious man with just ordinary 
common sense can see the possibilities of 
this proposition at a glance. If you are 
that kind of a man, I want to send you my 
FREE OUTFIT and FREE TEST OFFERS. 
I want to show you what real big money 
means. Mail the coupon today. Then get 
set to test the fastest, dizziest, profit mak- 
ers of your life. Write me this minute! 




SHARPENS LIKE MAGIC 

Just rest blade in magic 
groove and turn handle. 
Sharpens a ten-inch knife in 
six seconds by the clock. 
Puts a razor edge on straight 
or curved blades, sickles 
chopping knives, everything 
that cuts. 




GRINDS SCISSORS 
PERFECTLY 

Now anyone can sharpen 
scissors and shears. No 
trick or knack to it. Just 
rest blade against scissors 
guide, give the handle a 
couple of turns — Presto! 
Scissors are sharp as new. 



Central State. Mfg. Co., Dept. P-2633 
4500 Mary Ave., St. Louis Mo. 

Rush me details of your proposition and 
FREE TEST OFFER. 



$2000.00 
PRIZES 

In Cash To Agents. 
Write For Details. 



Name . 



Address . 



Town State 

Q Check here if interested only in one for your home. 



- 



kwestSh/feSi 




1- Newest 
Butterfly design, 
solitaire engagement ring 
of I8K Solid White t'old 
.set with a superior quality 
Bparknng, genuine blue- 
white diamond. Price SiO. 
SI now. $4.08 a month. 



DP24-Hlchly hand engraved 

fierce d Dinner Ring of 
4K Solid Whin- Gold, set 
with 3 fiery, genuine blue- 
white diamond* and 2 
French-blue sapphires. Price 
829.50. SI now. $2 37 a mo. 



7 

Dignified Credit 
at Saving Prices 





DP23-Very graceful and 
distinctive, modern, square 
prong. HOlttalre engagement 
ring. New "step" design 
mounting ot hand engraved 
18K Solid White Cold: set 
with a specially selected 
dazzling, genuine blue-white 
diamond. Price $75. 
$1 now, $6.16 a month. 



DP21 -Beau- 
tifully engraved and pierced 
18K Solid White Gold lady's 
solitaire mounting set with a 
fiery, genuine blue-white dia- 
mond. Price $36.50. $1 now. 
$2.96 a month. 




DP7-New. massive, gen- 
tleman's handsomely 
carved ring of 14K Solid 
Green Gold and 1HK 
Solid White Gold top in 
which Is set a flashing, 
genuine blue-white dia- 
mond. Price $50. $1 now. 
$4.08 a month. 



»27«° 

DP22 - Gentleman's 

massive, hand engraved 
ring of 14K Solid White 
Gold. Im[>orted black 
Onyx with u genuine 
diamond and any carved 
Initial or emblem de- 
sired. Price $27.50. 
SI now. $2.21 u mo. 




DP28-Gor- 

geously hand carved 18K 
Solid White Gold "lirtdal 
Blossom" wedding ring 
set with 5 specially 
matched sparkling, gen- 
uine blue-white diamonds. 
Unusual value. $29.50. 
$1 now. $2.37 a mo. 




DP27-Thc 

"Bridal Blossom" — * 
beautiful new creation. 
Hand pierced lace design 
engagement ring of 18K 
Solid White Gold set with 
a superior quality genuine 
blue-white diamond of 
exceptional brilliance. 
$42.50.81 now. S3.46amo. 




$5750 



DPto-GorgPous. latest design, 
dinner ring set with 3 fiery, gen- 
uine blue-white diamonds and 2 
French-blue sapphires exquisitely 
hand pierced 1SK Solid White 
"old ring. Price $42. 5t $1 now, 
" 46 a mo. 



DP25-i;xnuls1teIy hand- 
pierced and engraved 18K 
Solid White Gold ring set with 
large size, brilliant, genuine 
blue-white diamond in center: 
2 smaller, matched, genuine 
diamonds and 2 sapphires on 
sides. Price $57.50. $1 now, 
54.71 a mouth. 



Benrus "Flyer" 
Nationally Advertised 

Shock- proof, ^ 




CP30- 

i>n'ui "W\ 4%r. 

Adopted by leading 
national alrv ays as stand- 
dard equipment 'or pilots be- 
cause of the accuracy of its guar- 
anteed 15-Jewel patented BKNRUS 
'•shock-proof movement. Radium dial 
and hands. Handsomely engraved I4K White 
Gold filled dust-proof case, complete with a BENKU& 
Sport King flexible wrist band to match. $37.50. 
$1 now. 83.04 a month. 



Jewelry of Distinction Brought 
within Your Easy Reach 

Guaranteed Savings 

Direct Diamond Importations 

and large volume buying for both our National 
Mall Order business and our chain store system 
enable us to offer you superior quality genuine dia- 
monds, fine standard watches and exquisite jewelry 
at saving prices which are beyond comparison. 
AH of this with no extra charge for the added con- 
venience and advantage of dignified, liberal credit, 
that is — the policy of "Royal?" 

How to Order 

Just send Sl.OO with your order and your selection 
comes to you on lO Days* Free Trial. No C.O.D. 
to pay on arrival. After full examination and free 
trial, balance In 12 equal monthly payments. 

Satisfaction Guaranteed 
10 Days' Freo Trial 

You have the full privilege of 10 days* free trial- 
It not completely satisfied return shipment at our 
expense and the entire deposit will be refunded. 
Written guarantee bond with every purchase. 

All Dealings Strictly Confidential 

No Embarrassing; Investigations 

A whole year to pay! No extra charge — do red 
tape. You take no risk — satisfaction abso- 
lutely guaranteed or money back. 

Gift Cases Free 

Every article comes to you In a most beautiful 
and appropriate presentation case. 



fflhn CATALOGUE/ 





*29» '48 50 




DP26 - latest style, 
modernistic effect In a 
hand pierced IKK Solid 
White Gold lady's ring 
with new "step' sides; 
set with a fiery genuine 
blue-white diamond. 
Price $2». 50. 81 now, 
82.37 a month. 

Lady's 
Diamond Wrist 

2 Genuine Diamonds 
8 Sapphires 
or Emeralds 



DP12-l>azzllnj} 

cluster of 7 perfectly 
matched genuine blue- 
white diamonds; hand 
pierced I HK Solid White 
Gold lady's mounting. 
Looks like soli- 
taire. Hig value. Price 
S4M.50. 81 now. $3.96 a 
mo. 




DP8-Ladys wrist watch. 14K Solid White (.old 
engraved case; set with 2 genuine diamonds and 
8 emeralds or sapphires. Guaranteed 15-Jewel 
movement. Newest style, pierced flexible bracelet 
with sapphires or emeralds to match. Price 837. 50. 
81 now. 83.04 n month. 

Smart New Design -• Priced Unusually Low 



FREE 

' TO ADULTS 

7 Completely lllua- 
■ t rated new cata- 
logue of superloi 
quality genuine dia- 
monds; Hulova. Elgin, 
Waltham. Hamilton, 
Howard, Illinois 
watches ; fine Jewelry 
and silverware at unusu- 
ally attractive prices. 
Write now to set your Free 



12 Months to PayOn Everything! 



ROYAL Diamond ^oWatch Co, 



Address. Dept.530Y. 170 Broadway, New York, N Y.